Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
 | I. |
|
|
|
Happiness.
|
| II. |
|
|
|
 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
463
Happiness.
Believe not those who much possessThe only Lords of Happiness:
But rather such as rightly know
To use the Gifts the Gods bestow:
Who wantful Poverty can bear
And worse than Death Dishonour fear,
Who Life's last Drop would freely spend,
To save their Country, or their Friend.—
Happy, like the first Mortals happy he,
Whom the indulgent Gods allow,
With Oxen of his own to plow
Paternal Fields, exempt and free
From Business and the Gripes of Usury.—
Virtue, that scorns the People's Test,
Ne'er ranks among the truly Blest,
Phraates fix'd in Cyrus' Throne,
Ador'd like Persia's rising Sun:
From Cheats of Words, the Crowd she brings,
To form a real Estimate of Things:
Ne'er ranks among the truly Blest,
Phraates fix'd in Cyrus' Throne,
Ador'd like Persia's rising Sun:
From Cheats of Words, the Crowd she brings,
To form a real Estimate of Things:
To Him she gives, to Him alone,
The Laurel, and the lasting Throne,
Whose Eyes can unconcern'd behold,
The dazling Heaps of shining Gold.
Whose Mind does never Wealth pursue,
Nor backward turn to take a second View.—
Secure and free from Business of the State,
The Laurel, and the lasting Throne,
Whose Eyes can unconcern'd behold,
The dazling Heaps of shining Gold.
Whose Mind does never Wealth pursue,
Nor backward turn to take a second View.—
And more secure of what the Vulgar prate,
Here I enjoy my private Thoughts: nor care
What Rots for Sheep the Southern Winds prepare;
Survey the neighb'ring Fields, and not repine,
When I behold a larger Crop than mine.
To see a Beggar's Brat in Riches flow,
Adds not a Wrinkle to my even Brow:
Nor envious at the Sight, will I forbear
My plenteous Bowl, nor bate my bounteous Cheer.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |