Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/257

Rh Who love the king, and not his power. For 'tis the glitter of the throne That fires most hearts to loyally. Now one is eager next the king To walk before the gaze of men, And so gain luster for himself; For greed of glory burns his heart. Another from the royal stores Seeks to supply his own desires; And yet not all the precious sands Of Hister's streams could satisfy, Nor Lydia sate his thirst for gold; Nor that far land where Zephyr blows, Which looks in wonder on the gleam Of Tagus' golden sands. Were all the wealth of Hebrus his; If rich Hydaspes were his own; If through his fields, with all its stream, He saw the Ganges flowing: still For greed, base greed 'twould not suffice. One honors kings and courts of kings, Not that his careful husbandmen Forever stooping o'er the plow May never cease their toil for him; Or that his peasantry may till His thousand fields: but wealth alone, Which he may hoard away, he seeks. Another worships kings, that so All other men he may oppress, May ruin many, none assist; And with this sole aim covets power, That he may use it ill. How few live out their fated span! Whom yesternight saw radiant With joy, the newborn day beholds In wretched case. How rare it is To find old age and happiness Combined. More soft than Tyrian couch, The greensward soothes to fearless sleep;