Classic Poem

Last week you came up with a smile of content,
And whispered—‘Two thousand a friend just has sent.’
While three days ago, when we met at the club,
You said, as I happened your mantle to rub,
—‘That's a gift from Pompulla; it cost eighty pound’—
Then displayed a sardonyx with lines all around
And two rings beside, both with green jewels set,
—‘These are gifts that from Bassa and Caelia I get.’
And again in the theatre last night you went out
While Pollio was playing, but found time to shout.
—‘A friend has bequeathed me three thousand by will—
And to-day there's been two other legacies still.’
What wrong have we done you, who treat you as friend?
Have pity and make of this boasting an end.
Or if you can't silence your tongue, as I fear,
At least tell us something that's pleasant to hear.