NO more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With Avarice painful vigils keep,
Still unenjoy'd the present store,
Still endless sighs are breath'd for more.
O quit the shadow, catch the prize,
Which not all India's treasure buys!
To purchase Heaven has gold the power?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life can Love be bought with gold?
Are Friendship's pleasures to be sold?
No — all that's worth a wish, a thought,
Fair Virtue gives, unbrib'd, unbought.
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,
Let nobler views engage thy mind.