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 And politics, and country; the pure glow Of patriot ardor, and the consciousness That talents such as his might well bestow A lustre on the city; she would bless His name; and that some service should be done her, He pledged "life, fortune, and his sacred honor."

And when the sounds of music and of mirth, Bursting from Fashion's groups assembled there, Were heard, as round their lone plebeian hearth Fanny and he were seated—he would dare To whisper fondly that the time might come When he and his could give as brilliant routs at home.

And oft would Fanny near that mansion linger, When the cold winter moon was high in heaven, And trace out, by the aid of Fancy's finger, Cards for some future party, to be given When she in turn should be a belle, and they Had lived their little hour, and passed away.

There are some happy moments in this lone And desolate world of ours, that well repay