By Lord Byron

(See pages [233], [340])

Oh, Gold! Why call we misers miserable?

Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall;

Theirs is the best bower-anchor, the chain-cable

Which holds fast other pleasures great and small.

Ye who but see the saving man at table

And scorn his temperate board, as none at all,

And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing,

Know not what visions spring from each cheese-paring....