Accursed Wealth! o'erbounding human laws,
Of every evil thou remain'st the cause.
Sweet rest and peace, ye dear, departed charms,
Which industry once cherished in her arms,
When ease and plenty, known but now to few,
Were known to all, and labour had its due.
The rough, rude ploughman, off his fallow-grounds,
(That necessary tool of wealth and pride)...