Who gave the poor Ass to understand
That he didn't carry a bag of sand,
But a burden of golden treasure.
LXXXVII.
A load of treasure?—alas! alas!
Had her horse been fed upon English grass,
And shelter'd in Yorkshire spinneys,
Had he scour'd the sand with the Desert Ass,
Or where the American whinnies—
But a hunter from Erin's turf and gorse,