Shall never reach, rich only to his heirs.
Kind patriot, who, to plant us banks of flowers,
With purling streams, cool shades, and summer bowers,
His age's needful rest away does fling,
Exhausts his autumn to adorn our spring;
While his last hours in toils and storms are hurled,
And only to enrich the inheriting world.
Thus prodigally throws his life's short span,
To play his country's generous pelican.