Classic Poem

Him, Parmeno, I deem the happiest man,
Who having once survey'd great Nature's plan,
This beauteous system, this stupendous frame,
Scon to that place retires from whence he came.
This common sun, the stars, the streams that flow,
The clouds that darken, and the fires that glow.
These shall be always present to thy view,
Whether thou liv'st an hundred years, or few;
And nobler works, or wrought with better skill,
None ever yet beheld, or ever will.
This life on earth, these scenes to man assign'd,
Suppose a mighty concourse of mankind,
Where all contrive to trifle time away
In business, bustle, villainy, or play:
If first this inn you quit, a transient guest,
You'll pay but little, and you'll fare the best:
Go then equipt, nor fear the stroke of fate,
You'll travel free from envy and from hate.
But lingering guests who longer being crave,
Must sink at last with sorrow to the grave:
For antient men experience wants and woes
From friends departing or surviving foes.
He dies not well, who bending into age,
Droops under years, and tottering quits the stage.