Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.
Oliver GoldsmithThe watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
Oliver GoldsmithAnd what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth or fame, And leaves the wretch to weep?
Oliver Goldsmith