"But in his duty prompt at every call."—p. 194.
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy?
Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore,
And shouting folly hails them from the shore;
Hoards e'en beyond the misers wish abound,