In Death can feel a Parent's bitter Grief,
Prepar'd to die, would live for his Relief.
When thou art gone what ſhall become of me?
Where'er thou go'ſt, Mankind take Care of thee;
And yet thou may'ſt from Hand to Hand be toſt:
Or in ſome Miſer's ruſty Coffers loſt,
Or purchaſe Port, or be at Ombre play'd,
Or bribe a Strumpet, or debauch a Maid,
Be ſent to Paris and employ'd in Stocks,
Buy Villains Pardon, or Gallants the Pox,
Make Judges e’en with wholeſom Laws diſpenſe,
And deem that Guilt which they know Innocence.
Were it thy hap in the South-Sea to ſwell,
I might forget this ſorrowful Farewel;
For there ſmall Sums to mighty Treaſures grow,
As Rills uniting into Rivers flow;
Or as, when Men ſome diſtant Fame convey,
The Tale improves, and lengthens with the way.
Dear Deep of Wealth, by whoſe attractive Force
