Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways,
Upwards and downwards, thwarting, and convolv'd,
The quivering kingdoms sport; with tempest-wing,
Till  sweeps them from the face of day.
Even so luxurious men, unheeding, pass
An idle summer-life in fortune's shine,
A season's glitter! In soft-circling robes,
Which the hard hand of  has wrought,
The human insects glow; by  fed,
And chear'd by toiling  they rowl about
From toy to trifle, vanity to vice;
Till blown away by Death, Oblivion comes
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life.