Here break we off! — Speed thou to Lombard-street,
Or plod the gambling 'Change with busy feet,
'Midst Bulls and Bears some false report to spread,
Of Prussia armed, or Buonaparte dead,
From specious lies an  gain to draw,
And spoil some wretch in forms allowed by law;
More dupes to find, more knavish tricks to learn,
And fooled thyself, fool others in thy turn:
While I, sequestered in some favourite nook,
Or guide the pencil, or explore the book,
Blest, if still free from mad Ambition's dreams,
Youth's vain rash hopes, and Interest's fordid schemes,
I sometimes hear, to chear my lonely hours,
The Muse awake her lute's harmonious powers,
And still can boast (when down life's vale I bend
My steps, nor grieved, nor glad my days to end),
A feeling heart, an open hand, content, and one true friend.