Him no false distant lights by fortune set,
Could ever into foolish wanderings get.
He never dangers either saw, or feared,
The dreadful storms at sea he never heard.
He never heard the shrill alarms of war,
Or the worse noises of the lawyers' bar.
No change of consuls marks to him the year,
The change of seasons is his calendar.
The cold and heat winter and summer shows,
Autumn by fruits, and spring by flowers he knows.
He measures time by landmarks, and has found
For the whole day the dial of his ground.
A neighbouring wood born with himself he sees,
And loves his old contemporary trees.
Has only heard of near Verona's name,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame.
Does with a like concernment notice take
Of the Red Sea, and of Benacus lake.
Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys,
And sees a long posterity of boys.
About the spacious world let other roam,
The voyage Life is longest made at home.
THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE AND UNCERTAINTY OF RICHES.
If you should see a man who were to cross from Dover to Calais, run
about very busy and solicitous, and trouble himself many weeks
before in making provisions for the voyage, would you commend him
for a cautious and discreet person, or laugh at him for a timorous
and impertinent coxcomb? A man who is excessive in his pains and
diligence, and who consumes the greatest part of his time in
furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even
superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less ridiculous; he does
as little consider the shortness of his passage that he might
proportion his cares accordingly.
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