204 



CONCLUSION. 



They came : and like the circling year, 

 The circling glass went round ; 



Till something whisper'd in my ear, 

 " Ah, poor ten thousand pounds ! 



" Pshaw ! stuff!" cried I, " I'll hear it not, 

 " Besides, such friends are mine, 



" That what they have, will be my lot, 

 " So push about the wine." 



The glasses rung the jest prevail'd 



'Twas summer every day ! 

 Till like a flower by blight assail'd, 



My thousands dropt away. 



Alas ! and so my friends dropt off, 

 Like rose leaves from the stem ; 



My fallen state but met their scoff, 

 And I no more saw them ! 



One friend, one honest friend remain'd 



When all the locusts flew, 

 One that ne'er shrunk, nor friendship feign' d, 



My faithful dog, 'twas you. 



