But worse on the modern judge, alas!
Is the sentence launched from Apollo's throne;
For Midas was given the ears of an ass,
While Henley is doomed to keep his own!
ADVERTISEMENT.[1]
1830.
Missing or lost, last Sunday night,
A Waterloo coin whereon was traced
The inscription, "Courage!" in letters bright,
Tho' a little by rust of years defaced.
The metal thereof is rough and hard,
And ('tis thought of late) mixt up with brass;
But it bears the stamp of Fame's award,
And thro' all Posterity's hands will pass.
_How_ it was lost God only knows,
But certain _City_ thieves, they say,
Broke in on the owner's evening doze,
And filched this "gift of gods" away!
One ne'er could, of course, the Cits suspect,
If we hadn't that evening chanced to see,
At the robbed man's door a _Mare_ elect
With an ass to keep her company.
Whosoe'er of this lost treasure knows,
Is begged to state all facts about it,
As the owner can't well face his foes,
Nor even his friends just now without it.
And if Sir Clod will bring it back,
Like a trusty Baronet, wise and able,
He shall have a ride on the whitest hack[2]
That's left in old King George's stable.
[1] Written at that memorable crisis when a distinguished duke, then Prime
Minister, acting under the inspirations of Sir Claudius Hunter, and other
City worthies, advised his Majesty to give up his announced intention of
dining with the Lord Mayor.
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