184 death's doings.

His raptured gaze, till he believeAll real, and himself deceive.Too late, he finds the dazzling gleamReflects nor lake, nor glittering stream;The mead, the forest, flowery glade,The rocky dell, the dark cascade,The gelid fount, the mystic grot,And all on that romantic spotAnd rich imaginative sceneVanish as they never had been.

Tom Dewlap thought time made for him,

So us'd it to indulge his whim;

And, equally, believing all

The good on this terrestrial ball

Created for his sole delight,

Lived but to please his appetite.

His sire, (Tom was an only son),

Had Fortune's choicest favours won;

A careful citizen, who knew

Man may with toil all things subdue;

That pence grow shillings, and these rise

To pounds in purses of the wise :

A man, who thought the world was made

But as materials for trade.