A 'scion Of Nobility'

Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron dear, Alas! has run away. If always we had kept him here He had not gone astray. Painter and grainer it were vain To say he was, before; And if he were, yet ne'er again He'll darken here a door. We mourn each matrimonial plan Even tradesmen join the cry: He was so promising a man Whenever he did buy. He was a fascinating lad, Deny it all who may; Even moneyed men confess he had A very taking way. So from our tables he is gone Our tears descend in showers; We loved the very fat upon. His kidneys, for 'twas ours. To women he was all respect To duns as cold as ice; No lady could his suit reject, No tailor get its price. He raised our hope above the sky; Alas! alack! and O! That one who worked it up so high Should play it down so low!