University of Virginia Library

ODE XXIV.

Though you could boast the Yellow Stores
That deck Arabia's happy Shores,
Or all the Wealth the Indies yield:
Or such amazing Structures build,
As might with equal Grandeur grace
The Tuscan and Apulian Seas;
Yet when relentless Fate commands,
And reaches out her Iron Hands,
You must submit; for who can save
His Life from Sorrow and the Grave?
How happily the Scythians roam,
Whose very Houses stray from Home!
Happy the Getes! who know no Bounds,
But as they please enlarge their Grounds;
The Fruits they yield, the Corn they bear,
Cost but the Labour of one Year;
For every Farmer takes his place,
And as one works, the other plays.
With them no Poyson kills the Child,
By some inhumane Step-dame fill'd;
No Wife confiding in her Dow'r,
Usurps her Husband's lawful Pow'r;
Or to her smooth-fac'd Lover flies,
And all her Cuckold's Rage defies:
A rigorous Virtue, spotless Name,
Rich in their great Fore-father's Fame,
A Mind that's Chast, unstain'd with Lust,
Is all the Fortune which they boast;
They with Content and Joy can die,
Rather than live with Infamy.
Where shall we find the generous Man,
Who can our Civil Feuds restrain,
Or purge a guilty Age from Vice?
A Statue to his Name shall rise:
Him late succeeding Ages shall
The Father of his Countrey call.
Mankind, alas! too seldom give
The Palm to Virtue when alive;
But as the Goddess mounts the Skies,
We wish, and gaze with longing Eyes.
Yet can we of the Age complain;
Since Justice wears the Sword in vain,
Whilst Law's asleep, and vice does reign?
The Clime that feels the scorching Sun,
The Northern Isles, and frozen Zone,
Can't fright the Merchant from the Sea,
Through which he cuts his Liquid Way.
The Dread of Want, and Love of Gain,
Inure Mankind to Toil and Pain;
Want is the worst Disgrace we fear;
Hence we submit to Grief and Care,
With Vigour act, with Patience bear.
When the Blind God is all our Guide,
From Virtue's Paths we tread aside.
Then to the Capitol let's bring,
Where Crowds attend and Clamours ring,
Our Wealth, whence all our Troubles spring;
Or let the Seas deep Womb devour
Our sparkling Gems, and useless Oar:
True Penitents maturely wise,
Purge out the gross Remains of Vice;
Their loose Desires and Passions kill,
And crush the Seeds of growing Ill;
By Virtue's Dictates train the Mind,
To rigid Laws and Rules confin'd.
The Youth, by soft Indulgence bred,
Who cannot sit the manag'd Steed,
Avoids the Barrier and the Race,
And shuns the Fields and active Chace;
But plays at Tennis or at Dice,
And all the Penal Laws defies:
The Father saves, for him to spend,
And cheats his Partner or his Friend;
Can break a Promise, or forswear
A Contract, to enrich his Heir.
The Miser, though of Wealth possest,
Wants something still to crown the rest;
And never is compleatly blest.