The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse :: :: University of Virginia Library

Are not such moral studies more sublime
Than fitting Pupils for mere sports of Time?
Are not such simple Maxims far more wise,
That plainly prove Man's genuine mental joys,

Than wasting wealth, with cares, and pains immense,
To purchase pleasures lost with loss of Sense?
Ought Man, in Scenes of sorrow—toil—and strife,
Consume, on fruitless Love, one fourth of Life?
On carnal Knowledge, and on useless Arts,
Expend another of its precious parts;
Then let the love of Fame, or graceless Gains,
Monopolize the whole of what remains?
Uncertain, every point, that passes o'er,
Whether that Life shall last one moment more—
Whether such Wisdom will procure them Wealth—
That Wealth, if won, ensure them Strength and Health,
Or Fame, acquir'd, by casual, breezey, blasts,
Yield Peace, and Love, and Comfort, while it lasts.
Were it not wiser, far, the risks to rate
With changes, sure, that shock this churlish State;
And, while the precious moments pass away,
Prepare for Death, and God's great Judgment Day!