The Waltz by Lord Byron — Read

Muse of the many-twinkling feet! whose charms / Are now extended up from legs to arms; / Terpsichore! - too long misdeemed a maid - / Reproachful term - bestowed but to upbraid - / Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine, / The least a Vestal of the Virgin Nine. / Far be from thee and thine the name of Prude: / Mocked yet triumphant; sneered at, unsubdued; / Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly, / If but thy coats are reasonably high! 10 / Thy breast - if bare enough - requires no shield; / Dance forth - sans armour thou shalt take the field / And own - impregnable to most assaults, / Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz."

Hail, nimble Nymph! to whom the young hussar, / The whiskered votary of Waltz and War, / His night devotes, despite of spur and boots; / A sight unmatched since Orpheus and his brutes: / Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz! - beneath whose banners / A modern hero fought for modish manners; 20 / On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame, / Cocked, fired, and missed his man - but gained his aim; / Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast / Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. / Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz, / The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, / To "energise the object I pursue," / And give both Belial and his Dance their due!