Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware,
And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad 960
Her random bounties o’er the gaping throng.
All rush rapacious; friends o’er trodden friends;
Sons o’er their fathers, subjects o’er their kings,
Priests o’er their gods, and lovers o’er the fair
(Still more adored), to snatch the golden shower.
Gold glitters most, where virtue shines no more;
As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. 967
O what a precious pack of votaries[26]