o me, as Time:
It was not sorrow--not annoy--
But like a happy maid, though coy,
With grief-like welcome even Joy
Forestalls its prime.

So mayst thou live, dear! many years,
In all the bliss that life endears,
Not without smiles, nor yet from tears
Too strictly kept:
When first thy infant littleness
I folded in my fond caress,
The greatest proof of happiness
Was this--I wept.

MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG.[17]

[Footnote 17: Originally published by instalments in Colburn's _New
Monthly Magazine_ in 1840 and 1841, as one of a proposed series to be
entitled "Rhymes for the Times."]

A GOLDEN LEGEND.

"What is here?
Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold?"
_Timon of Athens_.

HER PEDIGREE.

I.

To trace the Kilmansegg pedigree
To the very root of the family tree
Were a task as rash as ridiculous:
Through antediluvian mists as thick
As London fog such a line to pick
Were enough, in truth, to puzzle old Nick,
Not to name Sir Harris Nicolas.

II.

It wouldn't require much verbal strain
To trace the Kill-man, perchance, to Cain;
But, waiving all such digressions,
Suffice it, according to family lore,
A Patriarch Kilmansegg lived of yore,
Who was famed for his great possessions.

III.

Tradition said he feather'd his nest
Through an Agricultural Interest
In the Golden Age of Farming;
When golden eggs were laid by the geese,
And Colehian sheep wore a golden fleece,
And golden pippins--the sterling kind
Of Hesperus--now so hard to find--
Made Horticulture quite charming!

IV.

A Lord of Land, on his own estate,
He lived at a very lively rate,
But his income would bear carousing;
Such acres he had of pastures and heath,
With herbage so rich from the ore beneath,
The very ewe's and lambkin's teeth
Were turn'd into gold by browsing.

V.

He gave, without any extra thrift,
A flock of sheep for a birthday gift
To each son of his loins, or daughter:
And his debts--if debts he had--at will
He liquidated by giving each bill
A dip in Pactolian water.

VI.

'Twas said that even his pigs of lead,
By crossing with some by Midas bred,
Made a perfect mine of his piggery.
And as for cattle, one yearling bull
Was worth all Smithfield-market full
Of the Golden Bulls of Pope Gregory.

VII.

The high-bred horses within his stud,
Like human creatures of birth and blood,
Had the