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Moreover, he had a Golden Ass,
That was worth his own weight in money
Gather'd gold instead of honey.
Gold ! and gold ! and gold without end !
And reversions of gold in futuro.
“O bella eta del' oro !"
Such was the tale of the Kilmansegg Kin,
And declare the whole story a parable-
Of acres, pasture and arable.
That as money makes money, his golden bees Were the Five per Cents., or which you please
When his cash was more than plentyThat the golden cups were racing affairs ; And his daughters, who sang Italian airs,
Had their golden harps of Clementi.
That the Golden Ass, or Golden Bull,
Then at war by land and water :
At the Lord knows what per quarter!
Survives to wear many a wrinkle ;
Expires without even a twinkle!
Into this world we come like ships,
For fortune fair or fatal ;
While another rides safe at Port Natal.
What different lots our stars accord !
And that to be shunn'd like a leper !
To its vinegar, only, and pepper.
One is litter'd under a roof
That's the prose of Love in a Cottage-
The whole of whose birthright would not fetch. Though Rohins himself drew up the sketch
The bid of “a mess of pottage."
Born of Fortunatus's kin,
To a prospect all bright and burnish'd :
To a lodging ready furnish'd.
And the other sex—the tender-the fair-
In a garden of Gul reposes
She hates the smell of roses !
Not so with the infant Kilmansegg !
Or gather cresses in ditches ;
To fill their insides with stitches!
She was not doom'd, for bread to eat,
To carry home linen from mangles-
With as many blows as spangles.
She was one of those who by Fortune's boun Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
In her mouth, not a wooden ladle : To speak according to poet's wont, Plutus as sponsor stood at her font,
And Midas rock'd the cradle.
At her first debut she found her head
With a damask canopy over.
Some children are born in clover.
Her very first draught of vital air,
No-her earliest sniff
Of this world was a whiff
When she saw the light, it was no mere ray
That the sun each morning launches-
With a golden stem and branches,
She was born exactly at half-past two,
As fast as they were able,
According to Grecian table.
T.ike other babes, at her birth she cried ;
Ay, for twenty miles around her:
It shook the next heir
In his library chair,
Of signs and omens there was no dearth,
Or the advent of other great people :
Two bullocks dropp'd dead,
And ale ran about,
That they crack'd the village-steeple.
In no time at all, like mushroom spawn,
But on scale as vast
Of drink and botargoes,
Hundreds of men were turn'd into beasts,
By the magic of ale and cider :
A bite from the Naples Spider.
Then as night came on,
It had scared King Jcan
To have seen the marooni,
And wheels of the same,
Oh, happy Hope of the Kilmanseggs!