R iches , in copious streams,
From every quarter flow:
Not one of all my fertile schemes
Feels an abortive throe.

My freighted vessels sail
A length of ocean o'er;
And bring me, with a speeding gale,
New wealth from every shore.

My soul, thy warm desires
Indulge in all delight.
Seize whatsoe'er thy fancy fires,
Or ravishes thy sight.

Roll in the gilded car,
The rural palace rear:
There every gate, and opening, bar
To charity and fear.

Bid Luxury employ
Her skill, thy taste to please.
Call thy rich friends to share the joy,
And swim in mirth and ease.

To-day, in jocund bowls
Drown, drown forecasting thought:
The morrow leave to gloomy souls,
Who dread they know not what.

Thou fool, thy soul this eve
Stern summons shall demand.
Whose name shall then thy house receive?
For whom thy coffers stand?