That threatened each moment to carry her off.
Now old Jonas was richer than any around,
He'd a farm and a mill—besides acres of ground,
Where the ripe, waving corn, like an ocean appears,
While than even King Midas he boasts longer ears;
And like to that fabulous monarch of old,
Whatever he touch'd was transformed into gold.
No harm to his horses there ever befel,
And his cattle had never at all felt unwell.
His crops were all good, and increased fast his store;—