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!