University of Virginia Library

THOUGHTS ON WEALTH.

O! say ye avaricious sons of men,
Who think to bask in plentitude of bliss
When fulgent heaps of gold shall shine around;
Ye ambitious! who plough the boist'rous main,
Who fly the peaceful scenes of native growth,
And seek the desert haunts of sultry climes
That ye may grasp the glitt'ring bauble, wealth,
Have ye not found your expectations vain?
Have ye not felt that courted riches give
To those who leave the paths of sweet content,
Nought else but self-deluding, phantom joys?
The tow'ring mind of high aspiring man
That ne'er seeks repose from scheming projects,
Alas! too often views with sanguine eye
Those meretricious charms that please him most.
Oh! could he but restrain that tyrant wish,
That fain would hold with unrestricted power
Each passing joy that fleets and dies away,
What dire impending griefs might be escap'd!
That hang o'er his ill-destin'd head, conceal'd,
And burst at last with loud and dreadful rage,
While he, poor hapless victim of an hour,
Is wrapp'd in heedless dalliance of delight.—
Wealth! thou alluring quest of feeble minds,
Thou bland deceiver of the human race,
How form'd are thy gay trappings to mislead!
How suited to display thy coz'ning sweets,
While deep lurking lies the deadly poison!
To steer along thy madd'ning blind career,
Proof to the wheed'ling spell that oft attracts
And with enticing bait would rend extinct,
Each light that faintly beams from virtue pure,
Needs far more the gift of stoic firmness
Than does stinted penury's tatter'd lot;
Whose poor weakness is heav'ns most precious boon,
To shame the vaunts of th' ostentatious proud:
Teaching by secret, but severe reproof,
That man, how e'er his present lot be blest,
Can only be but steward of his gains.
The dizzy din that lulls the rich to sleep
Sounds softly sweet on unexperienc'd years!
The great know alone the snares of greatness.
They whose bosoms for high affluence fret,
Who wish to drink the cup of sweet'n'd brim,
Think not of those tumultuous cares that mar
The fancied pleasures of that envied state;
Ne'er pause amid the wild excess of joy
Which the imagin'd bliss of wealth begets,
To view the precipice that threatens near.
This mad abstraction from all prudent thought,
Forms the sad cause of deep unnumber'd woes,
That with their bending weight encumber life.
This, the primeval spring in saintless souls,
Of those pois'nous crimes that try virtue's blush,
And plunge the mind in its chaotic gloom.
Th' inconsiderate at e'en the name of wealth,
Picture a prospect silver'd o'er with charms.
To couch beneath bright canopies of gold,
To surfeit amid soft luxuriant joys,
To rest the head on downy pillows smooth,
While mellow music lures them to repose;
To feed the eye with ev'ry rapturous sight,
The appetite with ev'ry wanton wish,
And prove what vice can will, or wealth obtain,
To th' unthinking crowd how rich a prospect!
Him, whose grovelling and untutor'd mind
Dreams of none other bliss but that on earth,
The pamper'd ease of affluence will please.
He forms the genial soil where temp ral views
Should build their vision'ry fabric of hope:
But he, whose soul to higher thoughts aspires,
Whose mental strength with penetrative glance
Rejects the borrow'd gloss of boasted pomp,
Who sees things real, not what they seem to be,
(Cloth'd in the specious semblance of disguise),
To him, the gilded charms of flatt'ring wealth
No dazzling radiance have to blind his sight.
Mark, the troubles which throng around the rich!
Mark, the restless toils that unceasing tire!
Then say, which is that lot which most beguiles,
That smoothens most the flinty walks of life:
The one, with more than rich abundance blest,
Or that, which safe from poverty's cold blast,
Can amply taste those pure and artless joys,
Which spring from competence—lovely state!
That most blessed medium which makes not man
Himself forget, where Fortune gently smiles.
Riches with their allurements oft entice
From the quiet ways of innocuous worth;
Spreading unseen their net of texture fine,
They lead their victim to the maze of vice,
E'er thought has time to stir him from his dream,
And show the gulf that's yawning to receive.
First, subtle Pride stalks forth with crested plume,
And claims each tittle of supreme respect;
While honey-mouth'd Flatt'ry light tripping comes
To court the fav'rite with her flimsy train,
Cramming him with tales of perfection false;
While he, who in a middle state of life
Could pass his days with unassuming airs,
Now prims his look, and vainly learns to boast.
And what of all, must most affect his weal,
His proneness to enjoy imperious rule
Rends him oblivious of that Mighty One,
Whose vast and spotless Majesty must frown,
When man dares contemn the Power who made him;
Next pale-fac'd Envy, with her gangrene touch
To blighten tries by machinations dark,
Those fading gifts she cannot hope to share.—
These, with ten thousand heartless cares attend
Too oft on those, who not content to share
Without exuberance, their fated lot,
Repining seek for gold to rob their peace.
Ne'er yet was perfect bliss the gift of wealth;
Not all that's dug from Chili's golden mines,
Can buy alone those calm and halcyon hours
Which cheer the heart that throbs a humble breast.
How oft does sorrow cloud the Monarch's brow
When stretch'd in grandeur on his royal couch,
Nor let him taste the calm of sweet repose!
Whilst the simple peasant that toils for bread,
Labouring 'neath the heat of mid-day sun,
Can safely lock his eyes in balmy sleep.
Happiest he! who with enough to shield
His head from the rude pelting storms of fate,
In contentment lives, nor sighs for greatness;
Who sees in riches nought but tempting sweets,
Nought but fleeting shadows of ideal joys.