Gold! and gold! and gold without end! He had gold to lay by, and gold to spend, Gold to give, and gold to lend, And reversions of gold _in futuro._ In wealth the family revell'd and roll'd, Himself and wife and sons so bold;-- And his daughters sang to their harps of gold "O bella eta del'oro!" X. Such was the tale of the Kilmansegg Kin, In golden text on a vellum skin, Though certain people would wink and grin, And declare the whole story a parable-- That the Ancestor rich was one Jacob Ghrimes, Who held a long lease, in prosperous times, Of acres, pasture and arable. XI. That as money makes money, his golden bees Were the Five per Cents, or which you please, When his cash was more than plenty-- That the golden cups were racing affairs; And his daughters, who sang Italian airs, Had their golden harps of Clementi. XII. That the Golden Ass, or Golden Bull, Was English John, with his pockets full, Then at war by land and water: While beef, and mutton, and other meat, Were almost as dear as money to eat, And farmers reaped Golden Harvests of wheat At the Lord knows what per quarter! XIII. What different dooms our birthdays bring! For instance, one little manikin thing Survives to wear many a wrinkle; While Death forbids another to wake, And a son that it took nine moons to make Expires without even a twinkle! XIV. Into this world we come like ships, Launch'd from the docks, and stocks, and slips, For fortune fair or fatal; And one little craft is cast away In its very first trip in Babbicome Bay, While another rides safe at Port Natal. XV. What different lots our stars accord! This babe to be hail'd and woo'd as a Lord! And that to be shun'd like a leper! One, to the world's wine, honey, and corn, Another, like Colchester native, born To its vinegar, only, and pepper. XVI. One is litter'd under a roof Neither wind nor water proof-- That's the prose of Love in a Cottage-- A puny, naked, shivering wretch, The whole of whose birthright would not fetch, Though Robins himself drew up the sketch, The bid of "a mess of pottage." XVII. Born of Fortunatus's kin Another comes tenderly ushered in To a prospect all bright and burnish'd: No tenant he for life's back slums-- He comes to the world, as a gentleman comes To a lodging ready furnish'd. XVIII. And the other sex--the tender--the fair-- What wide reverses of fate are there! Whilst Margaret, charm'd by the Bulbul rare, In a garden of Gul reposes-- Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street Till--think of that, who find life so sweet!-- She hates the smell of roses! XIX. Not so with the infant Kilmansegg! She was not born to steal or beg, Or gather cresses in ditches; To plait the straw, or bind the shoe, Or sit all day to hem and sew, As females must--and not a few-- To fill their insides with stitches! XX.