The peace that the sailor seeks in the storm
And the rest that's the warrior's aim
Can't be purchased with wealth in any form
Nor, Grosphus, with power or fame.
The pauper who wants only what he can afford
Sleeps soundly. But he would fly
To new fortunes, although he hastens abroad
Speedy vessels, sees his trouble stand by.
Fools nourish dreams of perfect joy;
I'll take less, having witnessed a hero
Die young and watched rotting old age destroy
Tithonus, reduced to gibbering zero.
It may be I have just those things you need
Amidst your horses fine clothing, and cattle-
Subsidence, and joy from the poems I read,
And no jealous mob doing me battle.
And the rest that's the warrior's aim
Can't be purchased with wealth in any form
Nor, Grosphus, with power or fame.
The pauper who wants only what he can afford
Sleeps soundly. But he would fly
To new fortunes, although he hastens abroad
Speedy vessels, sees his trouble stand by.
Fools nourish dreams of perfect joy;
I'll take less, having witnessed a hero
Die young and watched rotting old age destroy
Tithonus, reduced to gibbering zero.
It may be I have just those things you need
Amidst your horses fine clothing, and cattle-
Subsidence, and joy from the poems I read,
And no jealous mob doing me battle.