THE Plutocrat sat in his velvet chair,
A merchant prince and a millionnaire;
A library smiled from a noble's case, -
With a money lord it had found its place.
The pictures and paintings of every kind
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Were varied enough to suit every mind.
Portfolios too, filled with etchings of old,
Worth twice their weight in the balance of gold,
And relics and gems of fame and renown;
'T was the richest room in the old boroughtown.
Yet the Plutocrat sighed; his regal abode
Was suited for many an old Saxon lord,
But to him the estate that with thousands he bought
Was only a plaything with misery fraught.
He longed for the ease his fortune should bring, -
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