White, yellow, and brown relations: And Uncles-rich as three Golden Balls Nephews, whom Fortune seem'd to bewitch, Nieces whose doweries knew no hitch- As candles in golden sockets— 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 The lofty Lord, and the titled Dame, All di'monds, plumes, and urbanity: His Lordship the May'r with his golden chain, And two Gold Sticks, and the Sheriffs twain, Nine foreign Counts, and other great men With their orders and stars, to help M or N To paint the maternal Kilmansegg The pen of an Eastern Poet would beg, And need an elaborate sonnet; How she sparkled with gems whenever she stirr'd, And Sir Jacob the Father strutted and bow'd, He had roll'd in money like pigs in mud, And his cheeks, instead of a healthy hue, Making the common phrase seem true And now came the nurse, and during a pause, A very autumnal rustle— So full of figure, so full of fuss, A wealthy Nabob was Godpapa, The Font was a bowl of American gold, In spite of Spanish bravado; And the Book of Pray'r was so overrun Gold! and gold! and nothing but gold! Wherever the eye could settle! On the walls-the sideboard-the ceiling-sky- In coats to delight a miner's eye With seams of the precious metal. Gold! and gold! and besides the gold, It lapp'd her like a vapour! So fine! so thin! the mind at a loss Could compare it to nothing except a cross Then her pearls-'twas a perfect sight forsooth, Meanwhile, the Vicar read through the form, That made her little eyes twinkle. Then the babe was cross'd and bless'd amain; But instead of the Kate, or Ann, or Jane, Which the humbler female endorsesInstead of one name, as some people prefix, Kilmansegg went at the tails of six, Like a carriage of state with its horses. Oh, then the kisses she got and hugs! Gold! and gold! the new and the old! They revell'd, they sang, and were merry; And one of the Gold Sticks rose from his chair, Gold! still gold! it rain'd on the nurse, The Clerk had ten, And that was the end of the Christening. Her Childhood. Our youth! our childhood! that spring of springs! 'Tis surely one of the blessedest things. That nature ever invented! When the rich are wealthy beyond their wealth, There's little Phelim, he sings like a thrush, |