University of Virginia Library


57

ODE XXIII. Upon Gold.

Hoard up gold?—Had gold the pow'r
To with-hold the fatal hour:
Cou'd it that sad hour with-hold,
Gold I'd hoard, vast sums of gold,
That when death on me should call,
Death the certain doom of all!
I might (day succeeding day)
Purchase still a new delay.
But since death has not the pow'r
To with-hold the fatal hour,
Why shou'd I in fears and pains
Spend what yet of life remains?
Life! whose length alone appears,
Truly worth my pains and fears.
No!—to please my mirthful soul,
Give me the full-flowing bowl;
Give me with some faithful friend
What of life remains, to spend.
Or on beds of softness laid
With some kind-complying maid;
Joys, more heav'nly yet, to prove,
True to thy rites, fair queen of love.