by W.A. [William Allingham].
Originally published in The Argosy (Strahan & Co.) vol.2 #7 (Jun 1866).
Plutus. God of Riches, at thy shrine
Floated never incense-wreath of mine,
Word of supplication, song of praise;
I despised thee in my early days,
Thee and all thy worshippers. Behold,
Youthful joy and courage waxing cold,
I am punish'd by thy powerful hand,
Proving well its manifold command.
All earth-hidden treasures are thy dower,
On the earth great mastery and power;
Park and palace thy goodwill assigns,
Dainty victuals and flow'r-fragrant wines,
Horses, chariots, pleasure-ships that go
Where the world is sweetest, to and fro,
Various joy of music, pictures, books,
Soft perpetual service, smiling looks;
Almost all the Gods I find thy friends;
Wise is he who at thine altar bends!
Cupid, Hymen, are thy sworn allies,
Scarcely doth Apollo thee despise.
Nay, 'twould seem as if the Powers at large
Gave this earth completely to thy charge.
I am now too old to change my ways;
Still do I refuse thee pray'r or praise;
Change I will not, I'm too old a week,
Nor thine all-desirèd favour seek.
To thy vengeance, Earth-God!—power thou hast,
Not my adoration, first or last.