XXVII.
Are there not changes made which grind the Poor?
Are there not losses every day sustained,—
Deep grievances, which make the spirit sore?
And what the answer, when these have complained?
"For crying evils there hath been ordained
The Remedy of Change; to obey its call
Some individual loss must be disdained,
And pass as unavoidable and small,
Weighed with the broad result of general good to all."
XXVIII.
Oh! such an evil now doth cry aloud!
And Change should be by generous hearts begun,
Though slower gain attend the prosperous crowd,
Lessening the fortunes for their children won.
Why should it grieve a father, that his son
Plain competence must moderately bless?
That he must trade, even as his sire has done,
Not born to independent idleness,
Though honestly above all probable distress?
XXIX.
Rejoice! Thou hast not left enough of gold
From the lined heavy ledger, to entice
His drunken hand, irresolutely bold,
To squander it in haggard haunts of vice:—
The hollow rattling of the uncertain dice
Eats not the portion which thy love bestowed;—
Unable to afford that Pleasure's price,
Far off he slumbers in his calm abode,
And leaves the Idle Rich to follow Ruin's road.
