What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead!

And All The Way, To Guide Their Chime, With Falling Oars They Kept Their Time.

How Vainly Men Themselves Amaze To Win The Palm, The Oak, Or Bays; And Their Uncessant Labours See Crown'd From Some Single Herb Or Tree. Whose Short And Narrow Verged Shade Does Prudently Their Toils Upbraid; While All Flow'rs And All Trees Do Close To Weave The Garlands Of Repose.

But Fate Does Iron Wedges Drive, And Always Crowds Itself Betwixt.

Now Let Us Sport Us While We May; And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour, Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power.

The World In All Doth But Two Nations Bear- The Good, The Bad; And These Mixed Everywhere.