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![]() | Poems on Affairs of State | ![]() |
The sordid Miser, a meer lump of Clay,
Form'd into Man e're from its gross Allay,
It was refin'd by the Souls Heavenly Ray,
VVhose Thirst of Wealth encreases with his Store,
And to spend less, does covet to have more;
VVho Midas-like, to feed his Avarice,
Starves in the enjoyment of a golden wish;
Thinks himself wise, boasts of being provident,
And down-right Scraping calls good Management.
Form'd into Man e're from its gross Allay,
It was refin'd by the Souls Heavenly Ray,
212
And to spend less, does covet to have more;
VVho Midas-like, to feed his Avarice,
Starves in the enjoyment of a golden wish;
Thinks himself wise, boasts of being provident,
And down-right Scraping calls good Management.
![]() | Poems on Affairs of State | ![]() |