The Ingratitude and Injustice of Men Towards…

A trader on the sea to riches grew; / Freight after freight the winds in favour blew; / Fate steer'd him clear; gulf, rock, nor shoal / Of all his bales exacted toll. / Of other men the powers of chance and storm / Their dues collected in substantial form; / While smiling Fortune, in her kindest sport, / Took care to waft his vessels to their port. / His partners, factors, agents, faithful proved; / His goods -- tobacco, sugar, spice -- / Were sure to fetch the highest price. / By fashion and by folly loved, / His rich brocades and laces, / And splendid porcelain vases, / Enkindling strong desires, / Most readily found buyers. / In short, gold rain'd where'er he went -- / Abundance, more than could be spent -- / Dogs, horses, coaches, downy bedding -- / His very fasts were like a wedding. / A bosom friend, a look his table giving, / Inquired whence came such sumptuous living. / 'Whence should it come,' said he, superb of brow, / 'But from the fountain of my knowing how? / I owe it simply to my skill and care / In risking only where the marts will bear. ' / And now, so sweet his swelling profits were, / He risk'd anew his former gains: / Success rewarded not his pains -- / His own imprudence was the cause. / One ship, ill-freighted, went awreck; / Another felt of arms the lack, / When pirates, trampling on the laws, / O'ercame, and bore it off a prize. / A third, arriving at its port, / Had fail'd to sell its merchandize, -- / The style and folly of the court / Not now requiring such a sort. / His agents, factors, fail'd; -- in short, / The man himself, from pomp and princely cheer, / And palaces, and parks, and dogs, and deer, / Fell down to poverty most sad and drear. / His friend, now meeting him in shabby plight, / Exclaim'd, 'And whence comes this to pass? ' / 'From Fortune,' said the man, 'alas! ' / 'Console yourself,' replied the friendly wight: / 'For, if to make you rich the dame denies, / She can't forbid you to be wise.'

What faith he gain'd, I do not wis; / I know, in every case like this, / Each claims the credit of his bliss, / And with a heart ingrate / Imputes his misery to Fate.[1][2]