University of Virginia Library

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What, though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame?
Earth's highest station ends in, “Here he lies:”
And “Dust to dust” concludes her noblest song.
If this song lives, posterity shall know
One, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred,
Who thought e'en gold might come a day too late;
Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme
For future vacancies in Church or State;
Some avocation deeming it—to die;
Unbit by rage canine of dying rich;
Guilt's blunder, and the loudest laugh of hell!