Let us use it while we may;
Snatch those joys that haste away.
Earth her winter-coat may cast,
And renew here beauty past;
But, our winter come, in vain
We solicit spring again:
And when our furrows snow shall cover,
Love may return, but never lover.

Peace, peace, peace, make no noise,
Pleasure and fear lie sleeping;
End, end, end your idle toys,
Jealous eyes will be peeping:
Kiss, kiss and part, though not for hate, for pity;
Ha' done, ha' done, ha' done, for I ha' done my ditty.

I, a most wretched Atlas, the huge world,
The whole huge world of sorrow I must carry.
Yea, the unbearable must bear, though meanwhile
My heart break in my bosom.
Thou haughty heart, thyself hast willed it thus,
Thou would'st be happy, infinitely happy,
Or infinitely wretched, haughty heart!
And lo! now art thou wretched.

And when I lamented my cruel lot,
You yawned in my face and you answered not.
But now that I set in dainties rhyme,
You flourish my trumpet all the time.

127 Tuesday, 4 June 1751

Caepisti melius quam desinis: ultima primis
Cedunt: dissimiles hic vir, et ille puer.
Ovid [Her. IX 23 4]

Succeeding years thy early fame destroy;
Thou, who began'st a man, wilt end a boy.

He that owns wealth, in mountain, wold, or waste,
Plays master — pitches tent at his own taste;
Whilst he who lacks that which the world commends
Must pace a stranger, e'en in his own lands.

My precious life I spent considering
What I should eat in summer, wear in spring.
Vile belly! take the crust! 'tis nobler food
Than all the capons plucked in servitude.

What could he know of sky and stars, or heaven's all-hidden life,
Who did not see in his own house the knave that kissed his wife?

The man that never will declare his thought
Conceals a soul of honor or of sin.
Dost think yon silent jungle holdeth naught?
Perchance a lurking tiger sleeps therein.

Since nought avails, let me arise and leave,
Though down the way of swords I wounded crawl;
Perchance I shall attain to touch her sleeve,
And surely on her threshold dying fall.