TO THE BARON VON HOFFMAN,90
Morrison’s Hotel, Dublin, June 20, 1823.
arewell, farewell to thee, Baron von Hoffman,
Thus warbled a creditor over his wine,
Of unmeaning faces I’ve gazed on enough, man,
But never on one half as stupid as thine.
Oh, gay as the negro who trotted behind thee,
How light was thy heart till thy money was gone!
But when all was gone, ’twas the devil to find thee;
The nest still remained, but the eagle was flown.
Yet long upon Harlem’s gray rocks and green highlands
Shall Burnham91 and Cato remember the name
Of him who away in the far British Islands
Now lights his cigar at the blaze of his fame.
And still when the bell at the Coffee-House ringing
Assembles, of brokers, the young and the old,
The happiest there to his memory bringing
Thy frolics, shall swear when thy story is told.
