Page:Hesperides Vol 2.djvu/50

 No; 'tis a life to have thine oil Without extortion from thy soil; Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain, Although with some, yet little, pain; To have thy mind, and nuptial bed, With fears and cares uncumbered; A pleasing wife, that by thy side Lies softly panting like a bride. This is to live, and to endear Those minutes Time has lent us here. Then, while fates suffer, live thou free As is that air that circles thee, And crown thy temples too, and let Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat, To strut thy barns with sheafs of wheat. Time steals away like to a stream, And we glide hence away with them. No sound recalls the hours once fled, Or roses, being withered; Nor us, my friend, when we are lost, Like to a dew or melted frost. Then live we mirthful while we should, And turn the iron age to gold. Let's feast, and frolic, sing, and play, And thus less last than live our day. Whose life with care is overcast, That man's not said to live, but last; Nor is't a life, seven years to tell, But for to live that half seven well;