CHICKEN-SKIN, delicate, white,
Painted by Carlo Vanloo,
Loves in a riot of light,
Roses and vaporous blue;
Hark to the dainty frou-frou!
Picture above, if you can,
Eyes that could melt as the dew,��
This was the Pompadour��s fan!
See how they rise at the sight,
Thronging the CEil de Boeuf through,
Courtiers as butterflies bright,
Beauties that Fragonard drew,
Talon-rouge, falbala, queue,
Cardinal, Duke,��to a man,
Eager to sigh or to sue,��
This was the Pompadour��s fan!
Ah, but things more than polite
Hung on this toy, voyez-vous!
Matters of state and of might,
Things that great ministers do;
Things that, may be, overthrew
Those in whose brains they began;
Here was the sign and the cue,��
This was the Pompadour��s fan!
ENVOY
Where are the secrets it knew?
Weavings of plot and of plan?
��But where is the Pompadour, too?
This was the Pompadour��s Fan!