Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

If heaps of ruddy gold could give
To brief-enduring men to live,
Then would I use unceasing pain
To get, and keep the precious bane:
That death, when he should come to me,
Might straight pass onward with his fee!

But since to man there is no power
Life to redeem one single hour,
Why should I grieve, and why lament
In vain, at that assur'd event?
For, if to die be our decree,
Pray, what can gold then profit me?

Be't mine to drink the purple bowl,
With lovely wine to soothe the soul;
And mix, a concord quite divine,
The words of friendship with my wine;

And, maugre fate's unerring blow,
The charms of female love to know,
Love, the most precious gift below!