Which you may understand as best may fit you;
Besides the blackest fiddlers of those days,
Placed like their sire, Timotheus, on high,
With horsehair fiddle-bows and teeth of ivory.
cxxx.
And, with a breath, two rooms became but one,
Like man and wife—and, on the polished floor,
Chalk in the artists' plastic hand had done
All that chalk could do—in young Eden's bowers
They seemed to tread, and their feet pressed on flowers.
cxxxi.
Streamed like a shower of sunbeams—and free tresses
Wild as the heads that waved them—and a pretty
Collection of the latest Paris dresses
Wandered about the rooms like things divine,
It was, as I was told, extremely fine.
cxxxii.
Brought many who were tired of self and home;
And some were there in the high hope of meeting
The lady of their bosom's love—and some
To study that deep science, how to please,
And manners in high life, and high-souled courtesies.
