Gold! Mighty Gold!
Hurrah! for the most potent monarch on earth,
Who hath reigned in his might since the hour of his birth;
Whose standard is followed where'er 'tis unfurled,
And whose empire extendeth all over the world;
All, all, are his subjects, the young and the old—
And the monarch I sing of, is Gold! mighty Gold!
The soldier, when fighting for honor and fame,
Will strike yet the fiercer at sound of his name;
While the love-smile of Woman (to all justly dear),
Beams brighter by far, if the monarch draws near;
E'en the heart of the miser, tho' flinty and cold,
Will warm into rapture at sight of King Gold.
Alike axe his vassals, the wise man and fool,
Each bows and submits, with delight, to his rule;
In his ranks, too, are number'd the slave and the free:
Then say,—are there any as potent as he?
Obey'd are his mandates in hot climes as cold,
Then, hurrah! for the ruler of monarchs—King Gold!
The friends of a prosperous man, like the leaves of the summer tree, are many. Anon the winter of misfortune comes, and lo! the leaves fall off!
