Classic Poem

III ii 14 33

CALI
At my Command yon' Iron Gates unfold;
At my Command the Sentinels retire;
With all the Licence of Authority,
Through bowing Slaves, I range the private Rooms,
And of To-morrow's Action fix the Scene.

DEMETRIUS
To-morrow's Action? Can that hoary Wisdom
Born down with Years, still doat upon To-morrow?
That fatal Mistress of the Young, the Lazy,
The Coward, and the Fool, condemn'd to lose
An useless Life in waiting for To-morrow,
To gaze with longing Eyes upon To-morrow,
Till interposing Death destroys the Prospect!
Strange! that this gen'ral Fraud from Day to Day
Should fill the World with Wretches undetected.
The Soldier lab'ring through a Winter's March,
Still sees To-morrow drest in Robes of Triumph;
Still to the Lover's long-expecting Arms,
To-morrow brings the visionary Bride.
But thou, too old to bear another Cheat,
Learn, that the present Hour alone is Man's.