THE APOPLECTIC.

185

He fell, as other mortals fall,

And Tom became the heir of all

His cash, his lands, his bonds, his stock,

Which greatly weakened the shock

To the heir's nerves ; and the old man

Had measur'd out his mortal span.

As the pent torrent sleeps in rest,

Reflecting from its lucid breast,

Scarce rippled by the sighing breeze,

The sky, the clouds, rocks, banks, and trees;

But, in a moment, burst the mound,

It rolls in thunder o'er the ground;

In circling eddies boils afar,

Involving in the wat'ry war

Fields, gardens, cottages; till, wide

Spreading a lake from side to side,

It sinks, exhales, or scarcely fills

The scanty channels of some rills :

So wealth, like water, bursts the cords

That bind it in the miser's hoards;

And, though, beneath his Argus' eye,

The counted ingots safely lie,

Yet, spite of all his sleepless care,

They will be scatter'd by his heir.