And wonderfully made *; nay can he view Ye Heavens, Earth, Sea, and all that in you is, Rise! rise in judgement 'gainst this lump of clay, Ne'er utter'd sounds like those. I'll not believe it; It were a libel on Humanity To write it in one's thoughts against a Man. What! not disorder'd in his mind, and say There was no GOD!It cannot be, Horatio, THE UNIVERSAL POWER OF GOLD. Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold * * will make black, white; foul, fair; Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant. Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; That makes the waped widow wed again. TIMON OF ATHENS. O! THOU, in ev'ry form and shape ador'd, Bound by whose spells the mightiest are controll'd; Thou who alike canst sheathe or draw the sword, Pow'r universal, all-subduing Gold! Thee the proud monarch and the peasant swain, The hoary sage and beardless youth obey; Vigour and Health, Decrepitude and Pain, All own the force of Gold's unbounded sway. Behold the Priest, who late so strenuous fought, Beneath his SAVIOUR's banners nobly bold, At once renounce the doctrines which he taught, Deny his Faith, and pawn his Gon for Gold! Yon sturdy Patriot, who so loudly swore "Till death he'd guard the Country he ador'd, Now guides invading legions to its shore! A golden scabbard holds his harmless sword. In faction skill'd, in politicks unlearn'd, . Sir Fungus wherefore should the Senate hold? M The votes were gilded, which this knight return'd; He represents-th' omnipotence of Gold. Grave sits the Judge, with wig-encircled face; Conning that brief which brings the largest fee, A second Midas sure! For trust him, he Ne'er touches aught that does not turn to Gold. Next comes the Doctor; with unruffled ease Are scores of dead and dying patients view'd: What is't to him? he still secures his fees, Pockets the Gold-but first takes care 'tis good. Observe yon hoary Miser 'midst his bags, But then he looks at them and sees they're Gold. Made up of bows and smiles that Courtier view, Scorn and contempt alone can be his due';— Oh no! my Lord looks up to the gold Stick. Sad Stella to her dying husband swears No chains but his her constant heart shall hold ; But lo! a second husband's soon she wears, Lo! where the Servant, who for many a year |