XLVIII.

And now came the nurse, and during a pause,
Her dead-leaf satin would fitly cause
  A very autumnal rustle—­
So full of figure, so full of fuss,
As she carried about the babe to buss,
  She seem’d to be nothing but bustle.

XLIX.

A wealthy Nabob was Godpapa,
And an Indian Begum was Godmamma,
  Whose jewels a Queen might covet—­
And the Priest was a Vicar, and Dean withal
Of that Temple we see with a Golden Ball,
  And a Golden Cross above it.

L.

The Font was a bowl of American gold,
Won by Raleigh in days of old,
  In spite of Spanish bravado;
And the Book of Pray’r was so overrun
With gilt devices, it shone in the sun
Like a copy—­a presentation one—­
  Of Humboldt’s “El Dorada.”

LI.

Gold! and gold! and nothing but gold! 
The same auriferous shine behold
  Wherever the eye could settle! 
On the walls—­the sideboard—­the ceiling-sky—­
On the gorgeous footmen standing by,
In coats to delight a miner’s eye
  With seams of the precious metal.

LII.

Gold! and gold! and besides the gold,
The very robe of the infant told
A tale of wealth in every fold,
  It lapp’d her like a vapor! 
So fine! so thin! the mind at a loss
Could compare it to nothing except a cross
  Of cobweb with bank-note paper.

LIII.

Then her pearls—­’twas a perfect sight, forsooth,
To see them, like “the dew of her youth,”
  In such a plentiful sprinkle. 
Meanwhile, the Vicar read through the form,
And gave her another, not overwarm,
  That made her little eyes twinkle.

LIV.

Then the babe was cross’d and bless’d amain! 
But instead of the Kate, or Ann, or Jane,
  Which the humbler female endorses—­
Instead of one name, as some people prefix,
Kilmansegg went at the tails of six,
Like a carriage of state with its horses.

LV.

Oh, then the kisses she got and hugs! 
The golden mugs and the golden jugs
  That lent fresh rays to the midges! 
The golden knives, and the golden spoons,
The gems that sparkled like fairy boons,
It was one of the Kilmansegg’s own saloons,
  But looked like Rundell and Bridge’s!

LVI.

Gold! and gold! the new and the old! 
The company ate and drank from gold,
  They revell’d, they sang, and were merry;
And one of the Gold Sticks rose from his chair,
And toasted “the Lass with the golden hair”
  In a bumper of Golden Sherry.