I AM thirty to-day, and my health
Will be drunk at our family party,
Where prophecies touching my wealth
And my fame will be fluent and hearty.
Then Fancy, excited by themes
That are born of the wine and the dinner,
May bring back belief in the dreams
That I dream'd as a hopeful beginner.
Ah! my ballads, my songs, how I 've yearn'd
For the time to collect you and edit
A book that perhaps would have earn'd,
Not a name, but a quantum of credit.
I'd christen it "Sweets for the Sweet,"
Or "The Lyrics and Lays of a Lover;
And Simmonds's Poems Complete,
Should be printed in gold on the cover.
I have long'd for the pleasures that gold
Can procure—and I freely confess it:
(For avarice grows, we are told,
As the ipsa pecunia crescit.)
If I had but a fortune—oh, then
I could finish my course pretty gaily,
With lots of the cleverest men
In my circle to dine with me daily.
T should give up my bachelor life
When I met with a girl to adore me:
With riches and fame and a wife,
What a path would be open before me!
My bliss would be trebly secure,
And my future unclouded and sunny.
She'd love me for love, I am sure:
And, if not, she could love me for money!