I wish'd, when young, I had but clear
That lovely sum ten pounds a year.
For work or play, I must confess,
Produc'd a sum a little less;
Nay, peeling straws is better game
Then working worsted in a frame.
I'd be contented with this store,
And never send a wish for more;
Could eat, and dress a little gay;
Besides, could either work or play.

Before three years were fully come,
Good Fortune gave me thrice that sum.
And when successful flows the tide,
A river soon swells up with pride.
If one wish is not spent in vain,
Who could another wish refrain?

'Dear Fortune, if I've favour found,
Then let my second wish be crown'd;
Enable me, who humbly seek,
To lay by half-a-crown a week.
Sufficiently 'twill swell my store;
And I shall trouble thee no more.'

She gave a nod--she smil'd assent.
I found within compleat content.

But what mind in the human range
Won't change as oft as seasons change?
For though to win gives present joy,
'A little more' is all the cry.
The wheels of trade were taught to go,
Which gather'd cash as wheels do snow;
And steady rolling oer the ground,
Rais'd up a wish at every round.

'To walk on foot will hurt my pride;
'Tis needful I a horse should ride.
And who would not, his joy to crown,
Wish for a man to rub him down?'
Dame Fortune listen'd all the while;
Said not a word, but gave a smile.

'Two maids in waiting would be best;
My servant in a livery-dress:
For these I have a strong desire;
Higher my wishes can't aspire.
If both are plac'd to my account,
Not one step more I wish to mount.'

But who his bold resolves can trust?
Man's born to wish, and wish he must:
Pride is the itch, sets nails a scratching;
And, like the itch, is just as catching.

'My friend a country-house can see;
I long'd for one as much as he.'

A house was in the picture found--
A chariot fill'd up the back ground.
'The first I'll build when I have clear,
In land, one hundred pounds a year.
Chariot and pair I'll sport in view
The moment I can muster two.'

He who has wish'd to sixty four
Is seldom known to give it o'er.
As well might beauty damp a flame;
Or, the gay winner leave his game:
For though engag'd to wish no more,
The past forgot, I look'd before.

A manor will a title bring,
And E S Q's a pretty thing.

Thus having reach'd the ladder's top,
It must be nearly time to stop.
One word of man, it shall be true--
He always holds a future view.
Wish following wish, proceed in train,
Like water-blobs in heavy rain;
Which, with each other, we'll compare;
For both are fill'd with empty air.