Classic Poem

Vieux habits! vieux galons!

Though we be dealers in old clothes alone,
On men, good sirs, our watchful eyes are thrown:
Throughout the universe, a certain tone
Dress only can bestow
Amidst the changes that so oft take place,
The cast-off clothes belong to us: our race
On broadest grounds their calculations base
Any old galloon? old clo'?

Sometimes, in poring over the gazette,
With many another, I must needs regret
That the embroidered coats, which once we met,
Frenchmen aside should throw
But by the knowing ones I have been told,
That ancient prejudice resumes its hold;
Even pantaloons will soon be voted old
Any old galloon? old clo'?

Fashion and politics have lent their aid,
A hundred times, to swell our stock in trade:
What scores of dresses by new patterns made
We to their movements owe!
When men forget the tunics, that of yore
Our civic goddesses in triumphs wore,
We to the passers by that garb restore
Any old galloon? old clo'?

A hundred battles signalized the day
That with galloon made many a figure gay;
On the green coats, too, then embroidered lay
A thick galloon, you know
But without gain no glory can there be!
After each victory won, we, only we,
All that we wish for realized can see
Any old galloon? old clo'?

It suits us well, we also find, to deal
With hosts of men who, shame unused to feel,
When some one suddenly comes back, their zeal
In changing dresses show.
Valets, bedecked with laces not a few,
Barter to-day their liveries, old for new:
Our coats hung out make grand display in blue .
Any old galloon? old clo'?

They who our grandfathers' defenders were,
Now, issuing forth from many a noble lair,
Find it at last their turn again to wear
Court-dresses — all the go.
From us they get once more their old costumes;
And re-bedizened in red heels and plumes,
Each o'er the drawing-room his sway resumes
Any old gallon? old clo'?

If hordes of thieves, in unbelief arrayed,
To our just scruples no regard have paid;
But robes of saints, with other spoils, have made
Their booty — be it so
I, under many a philosophic nose,
The stuff that's in them must for sale expose;
From pious trade a splendid profit flows!
Any old galloon? old clo'?

Extolled in every work this long time past,
Grandees, on whom to-day abuse is cast,
Keeping some corner of their manors vast,
In suits of black crouch low:
But, thanks to us, those mantles may abound,
That they themselves, perchance, have sometimes found
Too heavy far, and hung too near the ground
Any old galloon? old clo'?

Thus since in theatre, at court, on town,
France never fails with her applause to crown
The latest mode, I may with truth set down,
That wealthy I must grow
Ye! who are decked in scarlet and in gold,
One month by flattery shall ye be extolled;
Then by your doors our usual course we'll hold
Any old galloon? old clo'?