Poems and Songs by Thomas Flatman. The Fourth Edition with many Additions and Amendments |
 |
Virtus sola manet, cætera mortis erunt.
|
 |
|
 | Poems and Songs |  |
Virtus sola manet, cætera mortis erunt.
82
82
Translated.
I
I never thirsted for the Golden Flood,Which o're Pactolus wealthy sands do's roul,
From whence the covetous mind receives no good,
But rather swells the dropsie of his Soul.
83
II
On Palaces why should I set my Mind,Imprison'd in this Bodie's mouldring clay?
Ere long to poor six foot of Earth confin'd,
Whose bones must crumble at the fatal day.
III
Titles and Pedigrees, what are they to me,Or honour gain'd by our Fore-Fathers toil,
The sport of Fate, whose gaudiest Pageantry
Lethe will wash out, dark Oblivion soyl?
IV
Why then (my Soul) who fain wouldst be at ease,Should the Worlds glory dazle thy bright Eye?
Thy self with vain applause why shouldst thou please,
Or dote on Fame, which Fools may take from Thee?
84
V
Praise after death is but a pleasant dream,The Dead fare ne'r the worse for ill report;
The Ghosts below know nothing of a Name,
Nor ever Popular caresses court.
VI
Give me the lasting Good, Vertue, that fliesAbove the Clouds, that tramples on dull Earth,
Exempt from Fates tumultuous Mutinies,
Vertue, that cannot need a second Birth.
VII
All other things must bend their heads to Time,By Ages mighty Torrent born away,
Hereafter no more thought on than my Rhime,
Or Faëry Kingdoms in Utopia.
| Poems and Songs | |