The Burier and his Comrade

A close-fist had his money hoarded / Beyond the room his till afforded. / His avarice aye growing ranker, / (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) / He was perplex'd to choose a banker; / For banker he must have, he thought, / Or all his heap would come to nought. / 'I fear,' said he, 'if kept at home, / And other robbers should not come, / It might be equal cause of grief / That I had proved myself the thief. ' / The thief! Is to enjoy one's pelf / To rob or steal it from one's self? / My friend, could but my pity reach you, / This lesson I would gladly teach you, / That wealth is weal no longer than / Diffuse and part with it you can: / Without that power, it is a woe. / Would you for age keep back its flow? / Age buried 'neath its joyless snow? / With pains of getting, care of got / Consumes the value, every jot, / Of gold that one can never spare. / To take the load of such a care, / Assistants were not very rare. / The earth was that which pleased him best. / Dismissing thought of all the rest, / He with his friend, his trustiest, -- / A sort of shovel-secretary, -- / Went forth his hoard to bury. / Safe done, a few days afterward, / The man must look beneath the sward -- / When, what a mystery! behold / The mine exhausted of its gold! / Suspecting, with the best of cause, / His friend was privy to his loss, / He bade him, in a cautious mood, / To come as soon as well he could, / For still some other coins he had, / Which to the rest he wish'd to add. / Expecting thus to get the whole, / The friend put back the sum he stole, / Then came with all despatch. / The other proved an overmatch: / Resolved at length to save by spending, / His practice thus most wisely mending, / The total treasure home he carried -- / No longer hoarded it or buried. / Chapfallen was the thief, when gone / He saw his prospects and his pawn.

From this it may be stated, / That knaves with ease are cheated.[1]