Classic Poem

Casimirus, Lib. 2. Ode 8.

It would lesse vex distressed man
If Fortune in the same pace ran
To ruine him, as he did rise ;
But highest states fall in a trice
No great Successe held ever long :
A restless fate afflicts the throng
Of Kings and Commons , and lesse dayes
Serve to destroy them, then to raise .
Good luck smiles once an age, but bad
Makes Kingdomes in a minute sad,
And ev'ry houre of life wee drive,
Hath o're us a Prerogative .
 Then leave (by wild Impatience driv'n,
And rash resents ,) to rayle at heav'n ,
Leave an unmanly, weak complaint
That Death and Fate have no restraint.
In the same houre that gave thee breath ,
Thou hadst ordain'd thy houre of death ,
But he lives most , who here will buy
With a few tears, Eternitie .