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That her parents had such full pockets !
With rickets instead of rockets !
And how was the precious baby drest?
Her best bibs were made
Of rich gold brocade,
And when the Baby inclined to nap
Of notions so exalted,
And on principle never malted.
From a golden boat, with a golden spoon, The babe was fed night, morning, and noon;
And altho' the tale seems fabulous, 'Tis said her tops and bottoms were gilt, Like the oats in that Stable-yard Palace built
For the Horse of Heliogabalus.
And when she took to squall and kick-
E'en the wealthiest nabob's daughter-
Videlicet, -Dantzic Water.
In short, she was born, and bred, and nurst,
To please the genteelest censor-
Of Lord Althorpe's-now Earl Spencer.
There's really a very great scope in it.
A prison—a cart—and a rope in it?
A name?-if the party had a voice,
Or any such nauseous blazon?
If door-plates were not so brazen !
A name?—it has more than nominal worth,
As dames of a certain degree know.
Till turned into Rupertino.
Now to christen the infant Kilmansegg,
To hunt the list in the Lexicon : And scores were tried, like coin, by the ring, Ere names were found just the proper thing
For a minor rich as a Mexican.
Then cards were sent the presence to beg
White, yellow, and brown relations :
From taking pledges of nations.
Nephews, whom Fortune seem'd to bewitch,
Rising in life like rockets-
As candles in golden sockets
Of Kentish hops in their pockets !
For money had stuck to the race through life (As it did to the bushel when cash so rife Posed Ali Baba's brother's wife)
And down to the Cousins and Coz-lings, The fortunate brood of the Kilmanseggs, As if they had come out of golden eggs,
Were all as wealthy as “Goslings."
It would fill a Court Gazette to name
To the rite of Christianity:
All di'monds, plumes, and urbanity:
Nine foreign Counts, and other great men
To renounce all pomp and vanity.
To paint the maternal Kilmansegg
And need an elaborate sonnet;
Had nidificated upon it.
And Sir Jacob the Father strutted and bowd,
To think of his heiress and daughter-
In imperceptible water.
He had roll'd in money like pigs in mud,
By some occult projection :
About a rich complexion.
And now came the nurse, and during a pause,
A very autumnal rustle-
She seem'd to be nothing but bustle.
A wealthy Nabob was Godpapa,
Whose jewels a Queen might covet-
And a Golden Cross above it.
Gold! and gold! and nothing but gold !
Wherever the eye could settle !
With seams of the precious metal.
Gold! and gold ! and besides the gold,
It lapp'd her like a vapour !
Of cobweb with bank-note paper.
Then her pearls—'twas a perfect sight, forsooth,
In such a plentiful sprinkle.
That made her little eyes twinkle.