Classic Poem

The Conclusion

Then let us boast of ancestors no more,
Or deeds of heroes done in days of yore,
In latent records of the ages past,
Behind the rear of time, in long oblivion placed.
For if our virtues must in lines descend,
The merit with the families would end,

And intermixtures would most fatal grow,
For vices would be hereditary too;
The tainted blood would, of necessity,
Involuntary wickedness convey.

Vice, like ill-nature, for an age or two
May seem a generation to pursue;
But virtue seldom does regard the breed;
Fools do the wise, and wise men fools succeed.

What is't to us, what ancestors we had?
If good, what better? or what worse, if bad?
Examples are for imitations set,
Yet all men follow virtue with regret.

Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate,
And see their offspring thus degenerate,
How we contend for birth and names unknown,
And build on their past actions, not our own,
They'd cancel records, and their tombs deface,
And openly disown the vile degenerate race:
For fame of families is all a cheat,
'Tis personal virtue only makes us great.