On a Travelling Speculator

On scent of game from town to town he flew,
The soldier's curse pursued him on his way;
Care in his eye, and anguish on his brow.
He seemed a sea-hawk watching for his prey.

With soothing words the widow's mite he gained.
With piercing glance watched misery's dark abode,
Filched paper scraps while yet a scrap remained,
Bought where he must, and cheated where he could;

Vast loads amassed of scrip, and who knows what;
Potosi's wealth seemed lodged within his clutch, —
But wealth has wings (he knew) and instant bought
The prancing steed, gay harness, and gilt coach.

One Sunday morn to church we saw him ride
In glittering state — alack ! and who but he —
The following week, with Madam at his side,
To routs they drove — and drank Imperial tea !

In cards and fun the livelong day they spent.
With songs and smut prolonged the midnight feast, —
If plays were had, to plays they constant went.
Where Madam's top-knot rose a foot at least.

Three weeks, and more, thus passed in airs of state.
The fourth beheld the mighty bubble fail, —
And he, who countless millions owned so late.
Stopped short — and closed his triumphs in a jail.