Whose visits I consider civil;
But ’tis, alack!—the thought is grievous—
The evil most in haste to leave us.”
’Twere proper that my readers knew,
That, by degrees, this passion grew;
Not always was the silly elf
So craving, coveting of pelf,
Though he was ever prone to hold
In high esteem pound-notes and gold:
And circumstances sometimes root