What though thy foe in wealth increase,
                                        
                                        And fame and glory crown his head?
                                        
                                        Fear not, for all at death shall cease,
                                        
                                        Nor fame, nor glory, crown the dead:
                                        
                                        While prosp’ring all around thee smiled,
                                        
                                        Yet to the grave shalt thou descend;
                                        
                                        The senseless pride of fortune’s child
                                        
                                        Shall share the brute creation’s end.