"'Give me,' says he, (nor thought he asked too much,)
'That with my body whatsoe'er I touch,
Changed from the nature which it held of old,
May be converted into yellow gold:'
He had his wish: but yet the god repined,
To think the fool no better wish could find.
But the brave king departed from the place,
With smiles of gladness, sparkling in his face:
Nor could contain, but, as he took his way,
Impatient longs to make the first essay;