1001 Who fills his house with ample store, enjoying none, Is dead. Nought with the useless heap is done.

1002 Who giving nought, opines from wealth all blessing springs, Degraded birth that doting miser's folly brings.

1003 Who lust to heap up wealth, but glory hold not dear, It burthens earth when on the stage of being they appear.

1004 Whom no one loves, when he shall pass away, What doth he look to leave behind, I pray?

1005 Amid accumulated millions they are poor, Who nothing give and nought enjoy of all they store.

1006 Their ample wealth is misery to men of churlish heart, Who nought themselves enjoy, and nought to worthy men impart.

1007 Like woman fair in lonelihood who aged grows, Is wealth of him on needy men who nought bestows.

1008 When he whom no man loves exults in great prosperity, 'Tis as when fruits in midmost of the town some poisonous tree.

1009 Who love abandon, self afflict, and virtue's way forsake To heap up glittering wealth, their hoards shall others take.

1010 'Tis as when rain-cloud in the heaven grows dry, When generous wealthy man endures brief poverty.