32 MEMOIRS OF

No cedar beams for pomp and state,

(To nature names confest unknown,,)

Repose their great and precious weight

On pillars of the Parian stone.

Not dropt an accidental heir

To some old kinless miser ' s means

No wealthy vassal ' s gifts I wear,

Rich purple vests, and sweeping trains ;

But virtue and a little sense,

Have so endear ' d me to the great,

That, thanks to bounteous Providence,

Nor have, nor want I, an estate.

Blest in my little Sabine field,

I ' ll neither gods above implore,

Nor, since in sneaking arts unskill ' d,

Hang on my wealthy friends for more.

From day to day, with equal pace,

Our sliding moments steal away,

Nor is the fleeting moon ' s increase

Aught but her progress to decay.

Yet you, amused with airy dreams,

Forgetful that the grave is near,

Are busied with your endless schemes

Of pleasant seats and houses here.

The bounds of nature for your mind

Too little seem, and you are poor,

Unless the ocean be confined

T ' enlarge your borders on the shore.

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