Behold yon glitt'ring train, whose sumptuous pride,
Bright with the treasures of each precious mine,
Invests with glory thy imperial throne:
Whence is their dignity? The ray august,
That awes and dazzles the respectful crowd,
Proceeds it from nobility, from virtue,
Their wisdom, or their valour, or their fame?
Comes it not rather from the beaming ore?
The diamond's star-like radiance? Wealth, O king,
Wealth is the sun that decks the gorgeous scene;
That cherishes, adorns, and calls to view
These princely flowers of honour, virtue, fame,
Which in the shades of poverty were lost.
Whatever men desire or venerate,
On wealth attends; ev'n empire's self is bought.
Nor cou'd the mighty Julius have attain'd
By wisdom or by valour sov'reign pow'r,
Had not the gold of vanquish'd Gaul subdu'd
The liberties of Rome. On wretched want,
Contempt and narrow-soul'd dependence wait.
Ev'n kings, of necessary wealth depriv'd,
In powerless indigence lose all respect,
All homage from their subjects: while the rich,
Like gods ador'd, o'er ev'ry neck extend
Their potent sceptres, and in golden chains
Fierce Faction and rebellious Freedom bind.