How shells, stuff'd monkies, and Cremonas old,
In hand of Auctioneer, are current gold!
He "Going! going!" cries. "The hammer's up!
"This fine antique! this Roman——
caudle-cup!
"
A gem so rare makes connoisseurs turn pale,
Fearful, alike, to purchase or to fail!
Hope trembles, starts, from lip to lip rebounds,
'Till down she's knock'd by—Ah!—one thousand pounds!
The envied purchaser, with joy elate,
Pays for his prize by—selling his estate!