 | Miscellany Poems |  |
59
On Old Age.
I
Old-Age, the State we all desire,For none would immaturely die:
But Riddles in our Nature lie;
Thô we with frequent Prayers do it require;
Yet when Indulgent Heaven grants our Request,
How are we with its Weight opprest?
II
In vain we for Content do seek;Tir'd with what doth to us betide,
We wish for things as yet untri'd,
Which, when we have obtain'd, we still dislike.
Gray hairs we pray for, yet when they are come,
We querulously curse our Doom.
III
So Life we do accept, and yet,If we beforehand could foresee
Of our few days the Misery,
And had our choice, All would refuse the Cheat.
At all Adventures it becomes our Lot,
And's given to those, that know it not.
IV
Except we early Victims fall,Yet we this State must undergo:
When Age shall wrinkle Cælia's brow,
When Milo shall his shrunken Limbs bewail:
When all the Joys, do upon Youth attend,
Shall in unwelcome Aches end.
60
V
Yet 'tis our fault, this State don't please;Our Youth we foolishly engage,
And no Provision make for Age.
Inherent Vanity our Mind doth seize;
None of those Vertues laid in store, that might
Give to the wearied Mind delight.
VI
The Wise and Vertuous well the Time can spend,When the disinterested Mind
None of the Body's fetters bind;
But Peace and Fame do on Gray hairs attend:
When well-spent Days add to the Aged powers,
And to Old Years insert Young hours.
VII
The cooler hours of elder DaysAre well adapted to Delight,
On whom no turbulent Passions light:
'Tis folly that doth every state debase.
“Nothing more monstrous to the World appears,
“Than Gray-hair'd Fools, or Children of old Years.
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