Then away! away! with all the speed That golden spurs can give to the steed,-- Both Yellow Boys and Guineas, indeed, Concurr'd to urge the cattle-- Away they went, with favors white, Yellow jackets, and panels bright, And left the mob, like a mob at night, Agape at the sound of a rattle. CCLIII. Away! away! they rattled and roll'd, The Count, and his Bride, and her Leg of Gold-- That faded charm to the charmer! Away,--through old Brentford rang the din Of wheels and heels, on their way to win That hill, named after one of her kin, The Hill of the Golden Farmer! CCLIV. Gold, still gold--it flew like dust! It tipp'd the post-boy, and paid the trust; In each open palm it was freely thrust; There was nothing but giving and taking! And if gold could ensure the future hour, What hopes attended that Bride to her bow'r, But alas! even hearts with a four-horse pow'r Of opulence end in breaking! HER HONEYMOON. CCLV. The moon--the moon, so silver and cold, Her fickle temper has oft been told, Now shady--now bright and sunny-- But of all the lunar things that change, The one that shows most fickle and strange, And takes the most eccentric range, Is the moon--so call'd--of honey! CCLVI. To some a full-grown orb reveal'd As big and as round as Norval's shield, And as bright as a burner Bude-lighted; To others as dull, and dingy, and damp, As any oleaginous lamp, Of the regular old parochial stamp, In a London fog benighted. CCLVII. To the loving, a bright and constant sphere, That makes earth's commonest things appear All poetic, romantic, and tender: Hanging with jewels a cabbage-stump, And investing a common post, or a pump, A currant-bush, or a gooseberry clump, With a halo of dreamlike splendor. CCLVIII. A sphere such as shone from Italian skies, In Juliet's dear, dark, liquid eyes, Tipping trees with its argent braveries-- And to couples not favor'd with Fortune's boons One of the most delightful of moons, For it brightens their pewter platters and spoons Like a silver service of Savory's! CCLIX. For all is bright, and beauteous, and clear, And the meanest thing most precious and dear When the magic of love is present: Love, that lends a sweetness and grace To the humblest spot and the plainest face-- That turns Wilderness Row into Paradise Place, And Garlick Hill to Mount Pleasant! CCLX. Love that sweetens sugarless tea, And makes contentment and joy agree With the coarsest boarding and bedding: Love, that no golden ties can attach, But nestles under the humblest thatch, And will fly away from an Emperor's match To dance at a Penny Wedding! CCLXI. Oh, happy, happy, thrice happy state, When such a bright Planet governs the fate Of a pair of united lovers! 'Tis theirs, in spite of the Serpent's hiss, To enjoy the pure primeval kiss, With as much of the old original bliss As mortality ever recovers! CCLXII.