Nor　little　sons　run　up　to　snatch　their　kisses
  And　touch　with　silent　happiness　thy　heart。
  Thou　shalt　not　speed　in　undertakings　more；
  Nor　be　the　warder　of　thine　own　no　more。
  Poor　wretch；〃　they　say；　〃one　hostile　hour　hath　ta'en
  Wretchedly　from　thee　all　life's　many　guerdons；〃
  But　add　not；　〃yet　no　longer　unto　thee
  Remains　a　remnant　of　desire　for　them〃
  If　this　they　only　well　perceived　with　mind
  And　followed　up　with　maxims；　they　would　free
  Their　state　of　man　from　anguish　and　from　fear。
  〃O　even　as　here　thou　art；　aslumber　in　death；
  So　shalt　thou　slumber　down　the　rest　of　time；
  Released　from　every　harrying　pang。　But　we；
  We　have　bewept　thee　with　insatiate　woe；
  Standing　beside　whilst　on　the　awful　pyre
  Thou　wert　made　ashes；　and　no　day　shall　take
  For　us　the　eternal　sorrow　from　the　breast。〃
  But　ask　the　mourner　what's　the　bitterness
  That　man　should　waste　in　an　eternal　grief；
  If；　after　all；　the　thing's　but　sleep　and　rest？
  For　when　the　soul　and　frame　together　are　sunk
  In　slumber；　no　one　then　demands　his　self
  Or　being。　Well；　this　sleep　may　be　forever；
  Without　desire　of　any　selfhood　more；
  For　all　it　matters　unto　us　asleep。
  Yet　not　at　all　do　those　primordial　germs
  Roam　round　our　members；　at　that　time；　afar
  From　their　own　motions　that　produce　our　senses…
  Since；　when　he's　startled　from　his　sleep；　a　man
  Collects　his　senses。　Death　is；　then；　to　us
  Much　less…　if　there　can　be　a　less　than　that
  Which　is　itself　a　nothing：　for　there　comes
  Hard　upon　death　a　scattering　more　great
  Of　the　throng　of　matter；　and　no　man　wakes　up
  On　whom　once　falls　the　icy　pause　of　life。
  This　too；　O　often　from　the　soul　men　say；
  Along　their　couches　holding　of　the　cups；
  With　faces　shaded　by　fresh　wreaths　awry：
  〃Brief　is　this　fruit　of　joy　to　paltry　man；
  Soon；　soon　departed；　and　thereafter；　no；
  It　may　not　be　recalled。〃…　As　if；　forsooth；
  It　were　their　prime　of　evils　in　great　death
  To　parch；　poor　tongues；　with　thirst　and　arid　drought；
  Or　chafe　for　any　lack。
  Once　more；　if　Nature
  Should　of　a　sudden　send　a　voice　abroad；
  And　her　own　self　inveigh　against　us　so：
  〃Mortal；　what　hast　thou　of　such　grave　concern
  That　thou　indulgest　in　too　sickly　plaints？
  Why　this　bemoaning　and　beweeping　death？
  For　if　thy　life　aforetime　and　behind
  To　thee　was　grateful；　and　not　all　thy　good
  Was　heaped　as　in　sieve　to　flow　away
  And　perish　unavailingly；　why　not；
  Even　like　a　banqueter；　depart　the　halls；
  Laden　with　life？　why　not　with　mind　content
  Take　now；　thou　fool；　thy　unafflicted　rest？
  But　if　whatever　thou　enjoyed　hath　been
  Lavished　and　lost；　and　life　is　now　offence；
  Why　seekest　more　to　add…　which　in　its　turn
  Will　perish　foully　and　fall　out　in　vain？
  O　why　not　rather　make　an　end　of　life；
  Of　labour？　For　all　I　may　devise　or　find
  To　pleasure　thee　is　nothing：　all　things　are
  The　same　forever。　Though　not　yet　thy　body
  Wrinkles　with　years；　nor　yet　the　frame　exhausts
  Outworn；　still　things　abide　the　same；　even　if
  Thou　goest　on　to　conquer　all　of　time
  With　length　of　days；　yea；　if　thou　never　diest〃…
  What　were　our　answer；　but　that　Nature　here
  Urges　just　suit　and　in　her　words　lays　down
  True　cause　of　action？　Yet　should　one　complain；
  Riper　in　years　and　elder；　and　lament；
  Poor　devil；　his　death　more　sorely　than　is　fit；
  Then　would　she　not；　with　greater　right；　on　him
  Cry　out；　inveighing　with　a　voice　more　shrill：
  〃Off　with　thy　tears；　and　choke　thy　whines；　buffoon！
  Thou　wrinklest…　after　thou　hast　had　the　sum
  Of　the　guerdons　of　life；　yet；　since　thou　cravest　ever
  What's　not　at　hand；　contemning　present　good；
  That　life　has　slipped　away；　unperfected
  And　unavailing　unto　thee。　And　now；
  Or　ere　thou　guessed　it；　death　beside　thy　head
  Stands…　and　before　thou　canst　be　going　home
  Sated　and　laden　with　the　goodly　feast。
  But　now　yield　all　that's　alien　to　thine　age；…
  Up；　with　good　grace！　make　room　for　sons：　thou　must。〃
  Justly；　I　fancy；　would　she　reason　thus；
  Justly　inveigh　and　gird：　since　ever　the　old
  Outcrowded　by　the　new　gives　way；　and　ever
  The　one　thing　from　the　others　is　repaired。
  Nor　no　man　is　consigned　to　the　abyss
  Of　Tartarus；　the　black。　For　stuff　must　be；
  That　thus　the　after…generations　grow；…
  Though　these；　their　life　completed；　follow　thee；
  And　thus　like　thee　are　generations　all…
  Already　fallen；　or　some　time　to　fall。
  So　one　thing　from　another　rises　ever；
  And　in　fee…simple　life　is　given　to　none；
  But　unto　all　mere　usufruct。
  Look　back：
  Nothing　to　us　was　all　fore…passed　eld
  Of　time　the　eternal；　ere　we　had　a　birth。
  And　Nature　holds　this　like　a　mirror　up
  Of　time…to…be　when　we　are　dead　and　gone。
  And　what　is　there　so　horrible　appears？
  Now　what　is　there　so　sad　about　it　all？
  Is't　not　serener　far　than　any　sleep？
  And；　verily；　those　tortures　said　to　be
  In　Acheron；　the　deep；　they　all　are　ours
  Here　in　this　life。　No　Tantalus；　benumbed
  With　baseless　terror；　as　the　fables　tell；
  Fears　the　huge　boulder　hanging　in　the　air：
  But；　rather；　in　life　an　empty　dread　of　Gods
  Urges　mortality；　and　each　one　fears
  Such　fall　of　fortune　as　may　chance　to　him。
  Nor　eat　the　vultures　into　Tityus
  Prostrate　in　Acheron；　nor　can　they　find；
  Forsooth；　throughout　eternal　ages；　aught
  To　pry　around　for　in　that　mighty　breast。
  However　hugely　he　extend　his　bulk…
  Who　hath　for　outspread　limbs　not　acres　nine；
  But　the　whole　earth…　he　shall　not　able　be
  To　bear　eternal　pain　nor　furnish　food
  From　his　own　frame　forever。　But　for　us
  A　Tityus　is　he　whom　vultures　rend
  Prostrate　in　love；　whom　anxious　anguish　eats；
  Whom　troubles　of　any　unappeased　desires
  Asunder　rip。　We　have　before　our　eyes
  Here　in　this　life　also　a　Sisyphus
  In　him　who　seeketh　of　the　populace
  The　rods；　the　axes　fell；　and　evermore
  Retires　a　beaten　and　a　gloomy　man。
  For　to　seek　after　power…　an　empty　name；
  Nor　given　at　all…　and　ever　in　the　search
  To　endure　a　world　of　toil；　O　this　it　is
  To　shove　with　shoulder　up　the　hill　a　stone
  Which　yet　comes　rolling　back　from　off　the　top；
  And　headlong　makes　for　levels　of　the　plain。
  Then　to　be　always　feeding　an　ingrate　mind；
  Filling　with　good　things；　satisfying　never…
  As　do　the　seasons　of　the　year　for　us；
  When　they　return　and　bring　their　progenies
  And　varied　charms；　and　we　are　never　filled
  With　the　fruits　of　life…　O　this；　I　fancy；　'tis
  To　pour；　like　those　young　virgins　in　the　tale；
  Waters　into　a　sieve；　unfilled　forever。
  。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。
  Cerberus　and　Furies；　and　that　Lack　of　Light
  。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。　　　　　。
  Tartarus；　out…belching　from　his　mouth　the　surge
  Of　horrible　heat…　the　which　are　nowhere；　nor
  Indeed　can　be：　but　in　this　life　is　fear
  Of　retributions　just　and　expiations
  For　evil　acts：　the　dungeon　and　the　leap
  From　that　dread　rock　of　infamy；　the　stripes；
  The　executioners；　the　oaken　rack；
  The　iron　plates；　bitumen；　and　the　torch。
  And　even　though　these　are　absent；　yet　the　mind；
  With　a　fore…fearing　conscience；　plies　its　goads
  And　burns　beneath　the　lash；　nor　sees　meanwhile
  What　terminus　of　ills；　what　end　of　pine
  Can　ever　be；　and　feareth　lest　the　same
  But　grow　more　heavy　after　death。　Of　truth；
  The　life　of　fools　is　Acheron　on　earth。
  This　also　to　thy　very　self　sometimes
  Repeat　thou　mayst：　〃Lo；　even　good　Ancus　left
  The　sunshine　with　his　eyes；　in　divers　things
  A　better　man　than　thou；　O　worthless　hind；
  And　many　other　kings　and　lords　of　rule
  Thereafter　have　gone　under；　once　who　swayed
  O'er　mighty　peoples。　And　he　also；　he…
  Who　whilom　paved　a　highway　down　the　sea；
  And　gave　his　legionaries　thoroughfare
  Along　the　deep；　and　taught　them　how　to　cross
  The　pools　of　brine　afoot；　and　did　contemn；
  Trampling　upon　it　with　his　cavalry；
  The　bellowings　of　ocean…　poured　his　soul
  From　dying　body；　as　his　light　was　ta'en。
  And　Scipio's　son；　the　thunderbolt　of　war；
  Horror　of　Carthage；　gave　his　bones　to　earth；
  Like　to　the　lowliest　villein　in　the　house。
  Add　finders…out　of　sciences　and　arts；
  Add　comrades　of　the　Heliconian　dames；
  Among　whom　Homer；　sceptered　o'er　them　all；
  Now　lies　in　slumber　sunken　with　the　rest。
  Then；　too；　Democritus；　when　ripened　eld
  Admonished　him　his　memory　waned　away；
  Of　own　accord　offered　his　head　to　death。
  Even　Epicurus　went；　his　light　of　life
  Run　out；　the　man　in　genius　who　o'er…topped
  The　human　race；　extinguishing　all　others；
  As　sun；　in　ether　arisen；　all　the　stars。
  Wilt　thou；　then；　dally；　thou　complain　to　go？…
  For　whom　already　life's　as　good　as　dead；
  Whilst　yet　thou　livest　and　lookest？…　who　in　sleep
  Wastest　thy　life…　time's　major　part；　and　snorest
  Even　when　awake；　and　ceasest　not　to　see
  The　stuff　of　dreams；　and　bearest　a　mind　beset
  By　baseless　terror；　nor　discoverest　oft
  What's　wrong　with　thee；　when；　like　a　sotted　wretch；
  Thou'rt　jostled　along　by　many　crowding　cares；
  And　wanderest　reeling　round；　with　mind　aswim。〃
  If　men；　in　that　same　way　as　on　the　mind
  They　feel　the　load　that　wearies　with　its　weight；
  Could　also　know　the　causes　whence　it　comes；
  And　why　so　great　the　heap　of　ill　on　heart；
  O　not　in　this　sort　would　they　live　their　life；
  As　now　so　much　we　see　them；　knowing　not
  What　'tis　they　want；　and　seeking　ever　and　ever
  A　change　of　place；　as　if　to　drop　the　burden。
  The　man　who　sickens　of　his　home　goes　out；
  Forth　from　his　splendid　halls；　and　straight…　returns；
  Feeling　i'faith　no　better　off　abroad。
  He　races；　driving　his　Gallic　ponies　along；
  Down