Classic Poem

Æquam memento rebus in arduis, &c.

I.

Let not the Turns of Fate molest
The sacred Quiet of your Breast;
Tho' the black Storm hang hov'ring o'er your Head;
Your Soul serene its Fury need not dread;
Let Fortune guide your destin'd State,
Yielding to Fortune, we subdue our Fate:
But when the fickle Siren smiles,
Trust not too far her treach'rous Wiles;

Not let the flowing Joy,
As it repays your Ill, your Calm annoy:
Catch not with greedy Hopes the fleeting Shade;
Black Storms will soon the visionary Scene invade;
Like the alternate Shades of Day and Night,
The particolour'd Thread of Life is black and white.

II.

B E our Lot good, or be it ill,
It makes no Measure for the fatal Wheel;
Should we spin out a wretched Life
In Cares and melancholy Grief,
'Twere but in vain to beg of Fate,
One fleeting Hour, to recompence our wretched State:
Or should we in some pleasant Grove refine
Our fading Life with sparkling Wine,
'Tis Fate's to measure Time, 'tis ours to live,
Nor can e'en Fate and Jove the past retrieve.

III.

Since Fate is still the same,
Then let us in some pleasant Grove,
Lull'd with the Murmurs of the purling Stream,
Banish all Cares and doubtful Life improve;
We'll quaff the sprightly Wine,
While Beauty fires the Eyes, and Fancy fills the Vein;
With Sweets anoint your flowing Hair,
And let it float and wanton in the Air,
Loose, and neglected as your Care.
Let the sweetest Flowers be brought,
Let the Rosy Wreath be wrought;
Let the short-liv'd Chaplet be
A Type of frail Mortality,
T' admonish us to catch the Golden Now ;
While Youth and blooming Beauty bless at once the Brow.
Thus will we live and flourish while we may,
Thus will we live and say;
" To-morrow Life is Fate's, 'tis ours to-day.