 | The Literary Works of James Smetham |  |
TO LEUCONOE
Leuconoe, seek not thou to know
The years the gods reserve to thee,
Nor bid Chaldean numbers show
The flowing hours awaiting me.
The years the gods reserve to thee,
Nor bid Chaldean numbers show
The flowing hours awaiting me.
'Twere better we should meet and brave
The stroke of fate or fortune's shock,
Than count far winters by the wave
Which wearies on the Tyrrhene rock.
The stroke of fate or fortune's shock,
Than count far winters by the wave
Which wearies on the Tyrrhene rock.
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Be wise and pour the oblivious wine;
Narrow thy hope and seize thy joy:
One spacious moment now is thine,
Which fruitless care would quite destroy.
Narrow thy hope and seize thy joy:
One spacious moment now is thine,
Which fruitless care would quite destroy.
| The Literary Works of James Smetham | |