Cultivons nousBlack-eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still;
Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,
In ancient arts by moderns mimick’d ill;
And like so many Venuses of Titian’s
(The best’s at Florence — see it, if ye will),
They look when leaning over the balcony,
Or stepp’d from out a picture by Giorgione,
Poèmes
Lord Byron
Was most facetious in the days of yore,
For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball,
And masque, and mime, and mystery, and more
Than I have time to tell now, or at all,
Venice the bell from every city bore, —
And at the moment when I fix my story,
That sea-born city was in all her glory.
Poèmes
Lord Byron
And you at Rome would do as Romans do,
According to the proverb, — although no man
If foreign, is obliged to fast; and you
If Protestant, or sickly, or a woman,
Would rather dine in sin on a ragout —
Dine and be d—d! I don’t mean to be coarse,
But that’s the penalty, to say no worse.
Poèmes
Lord Byron
“The curious in fish-sauce,” before they cross
The sea, to bid their cook, or wife, or friend,
Walk or ride to the Strand, and buy in gross
(Or if set out beforehand, these may send
By any means least liable to loss)
Ketchup, Soy, Chili-vinegar, and Harvey,
Or by the Lord! a Lent will well nigh starve ye;
Poèmes
Lord Byron
And solid meats, and highly spiced ragouts,
To live for forty days on ill-dress’d fishes,
Because they have no sauces to their stews;
A thing which causes many “poohs” and “pishes,”
And several oaths (which would not suit the Muse),
From travellers accustom’d from a boy
To eat their salmon, at the least, with soy;
Poèmes
Lord Byron
This feast is named the Carnival, which being Interpreted, implies "farewell to flesh:" So call'd, because the name and thing agreeing, Through Lent they live on fish, both salt and fresh.
But saving this, you may put on whate'er You like by way of doublet, cape, or cloak. Such as in Monmouth-street, or in Rag Fair, Would rig you out in seriousness or joke;
You'd better walk about begirt with briars, Instead of coat and smallclothes, than put on A single stitch reflecting upon friars, Although you swore it only was in fun;
And there are dresses splendid, but fantastical, Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical, Greeks, Romans, Yankee-doodles, and Hindoos;
The moment night with dusky mantle covers The skies (and the more duskily the better), The time less liked by husbands than by lovers Begins, and prudery flings aside her fetter;