I've felt full many a heart-ache in my day, At the mere rustling of a muslin gown, And caught some dreadful colds, I blush to say, While shivering in the shade of beauty's frown. They say her smiles are sunbeams--it may be-- But never a sunbeam would she throw on me. IV. But Fanny's is an eye that you may gaze on For half an hour, without the slightest harm; E'en when she wore her smiling summer face on There was but little danger, and the charm That youth and wealth once gave, has bade farewell. Hers is a sad, sad tale--'tis mine its woes to tell. V. Her father kept, some fifteen years ago, A retail dry-good shop in Chatham-street, And nursed his little earnings, sure though slow, Till, having muster'd wherewithal to meet The gaze of the great world, he breathed the air Of Pearl-street--and "set up" in Hanover-square. VI. Money is power, 'tis said--I never tried; I'm but a poet--and bank-notes to me Are curiosities, as closely eyed, Whene'er I get them, as a stone would be, Toss'd from the moon on Doctor Mitchill's table, Or classic brickbat from the tower of Babel. VII. But he I sing of well has known and felt That money hath a power and a dominion; For when in Chatham-street the good man dwelt, No one would give a sous for his opinion. And though his neighbours were extremely civil, Yet, on the whole, they thought him--a poor devil, VIII. A decent kind of person; one whose head Was not of brains particularly full; It was not known that he had ever said Any thing worth repeating--'twas a dull, Good, honest man--what Paulding's muse would call A "cabbage head"--but he excelled them all IX. In that most noble of the sciences, The art of making money; and he found The zeal for quizzing him grew less and less, As he grew richer; till upon the ground Of Pearl-street, treading proudly in the might And majesty of wealth, a sudden light X. Flash'd like the midnight lightning on the eyes Of all who knew him; brilliant traits of mind, And genius, clear and countless as the dies Upon the peacock's plumage; taste refined, Wisdom and wit, were his--perhaps much more. 'Twas strange they had not found it out before. XI. In this quick transformation, it is true That cash had no small share; but there were still Some other causes, which then gave a new Impulse to head and heart, and join'd to fill His brain with knowledge; for there first he met The editor of the New-York Gazette, XII.