The simple annals of a private man.
The salutations which to rank are due,
And all that gold e’er bought, or favor gave,
Cannot the worn-out wheels of life renew,
Promotion’s high way leads but to the grave.
Nor you, ye beaus, forget that they are men,
If no white dust their soapy locks disguise;
If on their brawny limbs coarse cloth you ken,
And from their cloaths no musky scent arise.
Can kerseymere, or scarlet bought on trust,