Oh, fool! to think that thou thy act could’st keep From that All-piercing Eye, which cannot sleep! “Go to thy trial! and may I—with thee A fellow-sinner, who to mercy flee— That mercy find, as justly I dispense Between thy frailty and thy penitence! “Go to thy trial! and be wise in time, And know that no man can conceal a crime. God and his Conscience witness all that’s done, And these he cannot cheat, he cannot shun. 190 What, then, could fortune, what could safety, give, If [he] with these at enmity must live? “Go!”—and the young man from his presence went, } Confused, uncertain of his own intent— } To sin, if pride prevail’d; if soften’d, to repent. } II. _P._ Lives yet the Friend of that unhappy Boy, Who could the WILL that made him rich destroy, And made him poor? And what the after-plan, For one so selfish, of that stern, good man? _F._ “Choose,” said this Friend, “thy way in life, and I 200 Will means to aid thee in thy work supply.” He will the army, thought this guardian, choose, And there the sense of his dishonour lose. Humbly he answer’d—“With your kind consent, Of your estate I would a portion rent, And farm with care”—— “Alas! the wretched fruit Of evil habit! he will hunt and shoot!” So judged the Friend, but soon perceived a change, To him important, and to all men strange. Industrious, temperate, with the sun he rose, 210 And of his time gave little to repose: Nor to the labour only bent his will, But sought experience, and improved with skill; With cautious prudence placed his gains to use, Inquiring always, “What will this produce?” The Friend, not long suspicious, now began To think more kindly of the alter’d man— In his opinion alter’d; but, in truth, The same the spirit that still ruled the youth. That dwelt within, where other demons dwell, 220 Avarice unsated and insatiable. But this Wright saw not; he was more inclined To trace the way of a repenting mind; And he was now by strong disease assail’d, That quickly o’er the vital powers prevail’d: And now the son had all, was rich beyond His fondest hope, and he, indeed, was fond. His life’s great care has been his zeal to prove, And time to dotage has increased his love. A Miser now, the one strong passion guides 230 The heart and soul; there’s not a love besides. Where’er he comes, he sees in every face A look that tells him of his own disgrace. Men’s features vary, but the mildest show— “It is a tale of infamy we know.” Some with contempt the wealthy miser view, Some with disgust, yet mix’d with pity too; A part the looks of wrath and hatred wear, And some, less happy, lose their scorn in fear. Meanwhile, devoid of kindness, comfort, friends, 240 On his possessions solely he depends. Yet is he wretched; for his fate decrees