As often they that solemn promise broke;
How jocund did they drive the duns afield!
’Till nick’d at last within the bailiff’s yoke!
Let not ambition mock their heedless fate,
And idly cry, their state might have been better;
Nor grandeur hear with scorn while I relate
The short insolvent annals of the debtor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
All wealth procures, its being to entrench,
Await alike the writ’s appointed hour: