Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/391

Rh Where yon proud palace, Fashion's hallowed fane,

Spreads wide her portals for the motley train,

Behold the new Petronius of the day,

Our arbiter of pleasure and of play!

There the hired eunuch, the Hesperian choir,

The melting lute, the soft lascivious lyre,

The song from Italy, the step from France,

The midnight orgy, and the mazy dance,

The smile of beauty, and the flush of wine,

For fops, fools, gamesters, knaves, and Lords combine:

Each to his humour—Comus all allows;

Champaign, dice, music, or your neighbour's spouse.

Talk not to us, ye starving sons of trade!

Of piteous ruin, which ourselves have made;

In Plenty's sunshine Fortune's minions bask,

Nor think of Poverty, except "en masque,"

When for the night some lately titled ass