The wretch who glories in his gain
Amasses heaps on heaps in vain.
Why lose we life, in anxious cares,
To lay in hoards for future years?
Can they, when tortur'd by disease,
Cheer our sick heart and purchase ease?
Can they prolong one gasp of breath,
Or calm the troubled hour of death?
What's man in all his boasted sway?
Perhaps the tyrant of a day.