Man, A Torch

Blown up with painful care and hard to light,
  A glimmering torch blown in a moment out,
  Suspended by a web, an angler's bait,
  Floating at stake along the stream of chance,
  Snatch'd from its hook by the fish of poverty,
  A silent cavern is his last abode;
  The king's repository veil'd with gloom,
  The umbrage of a thousand oziers bowed,
  The couch of hallowed bones, the grave's asylum,
  The brave's retreat and end of ev'ry care.