Classic Poem

If bus'ness calls, or crowded courts invite,
Th' unblemish'd statseman seems to strike my sight;
If in the stage I seek to sooth my care,
I met his soul, which breathes in Cato there;
If, pensive, to the rural shades I rove,
His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove:
'Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song;
There, patient, show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid censor, and a friend severe;
There taught us how to live, and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die!