Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill; Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth. Poor man, said I, you pay too much for your whistle.

He sat among his bags, and, with a look Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor Away unalmed; and midst abundance died-- Sorest of evils!--died of utter want.

The unsunn'd heaps Of miser's treasures.

The miser is as much in want of what he has, as of what he has not. [Lat., Tam deest avaro quod habet, quam quod non habet.]

'Tis strange the miser should his cares employ To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy; Is it less strange the prodigal should waste His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?