28.10.2007, 10:10
THE GOLDEN AGE.
WHAT hapless hap had I for to be born
In these unhappy times, arid dying days
Of this now doting world, when good decays,
Love's quite extinct, arid virtue's held a scorn ?
When such are only prized by wretched ways
Who with a golden fleece them can adorn ;
When avarice and lust are counted praise,
And bravest minds live, orphan-like, forlorn !
Why was not I born in that golden age
When gold was not yet known ? and those black arts
By which base worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid acts staining earth's stately stage ?
To have been then, O heaven ! 't had been my bliss,
But bless me now, and take me soon from this.
WHAT hapless hap had I for to be born
In these unhappy times, arid dying days
Of this now doting world, when good decays,
Love's quite extinct, arid virtue's held a scorn ?
When such are only prized by wretched ways
Who with a golden fleece them can adorn ;
When avarice and lust are counted praise,
And bravest minds live, orphan-like, forlorn !
Why was not I born in that golden age
When gold was not yet known ? and those black arts
By which base worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid acts staining earth's stately stage ?
To have been then, O heaven ! 't had been my bliss,
But bless me now, and take me soon from this.