CLIX.

And Lady K. nid-nodded her head, Lapp'd in a turban fancy-bred, Just like a love-apple huge and red, Some Mussul-womanish mystery; But whatever she meant To represent, She talked like the Muse of History.

CLX.

She told how the filial leg was lost; And then how much the gold one cost; With its weight to a Trojan fraction: And how it took off, and how it put on; And call'd on Devil, Duke, and Don, Mahomet, Moses, and Prester John, To notice its beautiful action.

CLXI.

And then of the Leg she went in quest; And led it where the light was best; And made it lay itself up to rest In postures for painter's studies: It cost more tricks and trouble by half, Than it takes to exhibit a six-legg'd Calf To a boothful of country Cuddies.

CLXII.

Nor yet did the Heiress herself omit The arts that help to make a hit, And preserve a prominent station.

She talk'd and laugh'd far more than her share; And took a part in "Rich and Rare Were the gems she wore"--and the gems were there, Like a Song with an Illustration.

CLXIII.

She even stood up with a Count of France To dance--alas! the measures we dance When Vanity plays the piper!

Vanity, Vanity, apt to betray, And lead all sorts of legs astray, Wood, or metal, or human clay,-- Since Satan first play'd the Viper!

CLXIV.

But first she doff'd her hunting gear, And favor'd Tom Tug with her golden spear To row with down the river-- A Bonz had her golden bow to hold; A Hermit her belt and bugle of gold; And an Abbot her golden quiver.

CLXV.

And then a space was clear'd on the floor, And she walk'd the Minuet de la Cour, With all the pomp of a Pompadour, But although she began _andante_, Conceive the faces of all the Rout, When she finished off with a whirligig bout, And the Precious Leg stuck stiffly out Like the leg of a _Figurante_.

CLXVI.

So the courtly dance was goldenly done, And golden opinions, of course, it won From all different sorts of people-- Chiming, ding-dong, with flattering phrase, In one vociferous peal of praise, Like the peal that rings on Royal days From Loyalty's parish steeple.

CLXVII.

And yet, had the leg been one of those That danced for bread in flesh-color'd hose, With Rosina's pastora bevy, The jeers it had met,--the shouts! the scoff!

The cutting advice to "take itself off"

For sounding but half so heavy.

CLXVIII.

Had it been a leg like those, perchance, That teach little girls and boys to dance, To set, poussette, recede, and advance, With the steps and figures most proper,-- Had it hopp'd for a weekly or quarterly sum, How little of praise or grist would have come To a mill with such a hopper!

CLXIX.

But the Leg was none of those limbs forlorn-- Bartering capers and hops for corn-- That meet with public hisses and scorn, Or the morning journal denounces-- Had it pleased to caper from morning till dusk, There was all the music of "Money Musk"

In its ponderous bangs and bounces.

CLXX.

But hark;--as slow as the strokes of a pump, Lump, thump!

Thump, lump!

As the Giant of Castle Otranto might stump, To a lower room from an upper-- Down she goes with a noisy dint, For, taking the crimson turban's hint, A noble Lord at the Head of the Mint Is leading the Leg to supper!

CLXXI.

But the supper, alas! must rest untold, With its blaze of light and its glitter of gold, For to paint that scene of glamour, It would need the Great Enchanter's charm, Who waves over Palace, and Cot, and Farm, An arm like the Goldbeater's Golden Arm That wields a Golden Hammer.

CLXXII.

He--only HE--could fitly state THE MASSIVE SERVICE OF GOLDEN PLATE, With the proper phrase and expansion-- The Rare Selection of FOREIGN WINES-- The ALPS OF ICE and MOUNTAINS OF PINES, The punch in OCEANS and sugary shrines, The TEMPLE OF TASTE from GUNTER'S DESIGNS-- In short, all that WEALTH with A FEAST combines, In a SPLENDID FAMILY MANSION.

CLXXIII.

Suffice it each mask'd outlandish guest Ate and drank of the very best, According to critical conners-- And then they pledged the Hostess and Host, But the Golden Leg was the standing toast, And as somebody swore, Walk'd off with more Than its share of the "Hips!" and honors!

CLXXIV.

"Miss Kilmansegg!-- Full-glasses I beg!-- Miss Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg!"

And away went the bottle careering!

Wine in bumpers! and shouts in peals!

Till the Clown didn't know his head from his heels, The Mussulman's eyes danced two-some reels, And the Quaker was hoarse from cheering!

HER DREAM.

CLXXV.

Miss Kilmansegg took off her leg, And laid it down like a cribbage-peg, For the Rout was done and the riot: The Square was hush'd; not a sound was heard; The sky was gray, and no creature stirr'd, Except one little precocious bird, That chirp'd--and then was quiet.

CLXXVI.