Then went to sea, and made his grog so strong, He died before he could forgive the wrong. The rich man built a house, both large and high, He enter'd in and set him down to sigh; He planted ample woods and gardens fair, And walk'd with anguish and compunction there: The rich man's pines, to every friend a treat, He saw with pain, and he refused to eat; His daintiest food, his richest wines, were all Turn'd by remorse to vinegar and gall: The softest down by living body press'd, The rich man bought, and tried to take his rest; But care had thorns upon his pillow spread, And scatter'd sand and nettles in his bed: Nervous he grew,--would often sigh and groan, He talk'd but little, and he walk'd alone; Till by his priest convinced, that from one deed Of genuine love would joy and health proceed, He from that time with care and zeal began To seek and soothe the grievous ills of man; And as his hands their aid to grief apply, He learns to smile and he forgets to sigh. Now he can drink his wine and taste his food, And feel the blessings Heav'n has dealt are good; And, since the suffering seek the rich man's door, He sleeps as soundly as when young and poor. Here much he gives--is urgent more to gain; He begs--rich beggars seldom sue in vain: Preachers most famed he moves, the crowd to move, And never wearies in the work of love: He rules all business, settles all affairs; He makes collections, he directs repairs; And if he wrong'd one brother,--Heav'n forgive The man by whom so many brethren live. -----------------------