WHATE'ER thy countrymen have done By law and wit, by sword and gun, In thee is faithfully recited: And all the living world, that view Thy work, give thee the praises due, At once instructed and delighted. Yet for the fame of all these deeds, What beggar in the Invalides, With lameness broke, with blindness smitten, Wished ever decently to die, To have been either Mezeray, Or any monarch he has written? It's strange, dear author, yet it true is, That, down from Pharamond to Louis, All covet life, yet call it pain; All feel the ill, yet shun the cure: Can sense this paradox endure? Resolve me, Cambray, or Fontaine. The man in graver tragic known (Though his best part long since was done) Still on the stage desires to tarry; And he who played the Harlequin, After the jest still loads the scene Unwilling to retire, though weary. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW THE SKELETON OF THE FUTURE; AT LENIN'S TOMB by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE THE PILLAR OF FAME by ROBERT HERRICK AN ODE IN TIME OF HESITATION by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TOUJOURS AMOUR by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 4: LORD STANHOPE'S STEAMER by T. BAKER |