N LempriÈre—bewitching book—

I've read and read the story

olden,

Which tells us of the king who

took

That fatal fancy to the golden.

The monarch, by a simple touch,

Transmuted anything instanter.

(Since then the times have alter'd

much,

And only Tempora mutantur.)

His palace roof was raised on high

By pillars bright with golden glory;—

(No modern publisher could buy

One column of this classic story.)

His pamper'd pages quite cut out

The pages from the "Wealth of Nations:"

They had gilt edges, past a doubt,

And lots of DorÉ illustrations.

But Midas very soon, they say,

Knelt down and—driven to distraction—

Implored the gods to take away

Their awful gift of aurifaction.

'Twas hunger that induced remorse;

The king was at the point of starving.

(For gilding had become, of course,

The instant consequence of carving.)

Do all I will, I cannot bring

My faith to credit such a fable;

Although a cheque 's a common thing

To turn to gold when one is able.

But gold, as far as I can learn,

(And here the story seems a "whopper!")

Gets changed to silver in its turn,

And silver in its turn to copper.