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THE DANCE. |
365 |
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Now hous'd in York he challeng'd all,
At minuet or all 'amande, And lessons for a courtly ball,
His guards by day and night conn'd.
This challenge known, full soon there came,
A set who had the bon ton, De Grasse and Rochambeau, whose fame
Fut brillant pour un long terns.
And Washington, Columbia's son, Whom easy nature taught, sir,
That grace which can't by pains be won, Or Plutus' gold be bought, sir.
Now hand in hand they circle round,
This ever-dancing peer, sir; Their gentle movements, soon confound
The earl, as they draw near, sir.
His music soon forgets to play— His feet can no more move, sir,
And all his bands now curse the day, They jigged to our shore, sir. |
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