Aesop, in Rhyme, page 48 by Marmaduke Park
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THE OLD MAN AND DEATH.
Though life be welcome to the wise,
Death cannot take him by surprise;
Aware that every day and hour
He holds but at the tyrant's power,
That beauty, talents, worth, are vain.
A moment's respite to obtain.
Nothing more known, and yet how rare
It is with courage to prepare
For this inevitable day!
All hope a little more delay.
One who had suffer'd many a year,
And to a century drew near,
At last complain'd, that unawares
Death came, unsettled his affairs:
"My will is not completely made;
A little time," he trembling said,
"A little longer let me live;
Some warning 'tis but fair to give!
My grandson is expected home;
At least pray, let the doctor come."
"Poor helpless driveller!" Death replied,
"Ten years ago thou should'st have died!
Thy friends, thy foes, thyself outliv'd:
Almost an age thou hast surviv'd:
Some who their day had scarce begun.
Others beneath their noon-tide sun--
Time's deepest lines engrave thy brow,
And dost thou hesitate to go?
Idiot, what warning would'st thou have?
One foot already in the grave:
Sight, hearing, feeling, day by day,
Sunk gradual in a long decay.
I blame myself for my neglect;
Thou'st not a moment to expect!"
When failing nature warns, the sage
Sees death a refuge from old age;
And rising from life's lengthened feast,
Willing retires, a sated guest.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE PAINTER.
When candid critics deign to blame
Their index points the road to fame,
But when dull fools your works admire,
Throw them at once into the fire.
In Rome there dwelt, in days of yore,
A painter deep in graphic lore.
His touch was firm, his outline true,
And every rule full well he knew.
A Mars he painted, meant to show
How far his learned skill could go.
The work complete, he call'd a friend,
On w