On GOLD

BEAUTY's a bawble, a trifle in price! 'Tis glass, or 'tis something as glaring; But set it in gold—'tis so wonderful nice, That a prince shall be proud in the wearing. How feeble the transport when passion is gone, How pall'd when the honey-moon's over! When kissing—and cooing—and toying are done, 'Tis gold must enliven the lover.