PENTADII. <br /> <br />Non est, fulleris, haec beata non est <br />Quod vos creditis esse, vita non est: <br />Fulgentes manibus videre gemmas <br />Et testudineo jacere lecto, <br />Aut pluma latus abdidisse molli, <br />Aut auro bibere, aut cubare cocco; <br />Regales dapibus gravare mensas, <br />Et quicquid Lybico secatur arvo; <br />Non una positum tenere cella: <br />Sed nullos trepidum timere casus, <br />Nec vano populi favore tangi, <br />Et stricto nihil aestuare ferro: <br />Hoc quisquis poterit, licebit illi <br />Fortunam moveat loco superbus. <br /> <br /> ENGLISHED. <br /> <br />It is not, y' are deceav'd, it is not blisse <br />What you conceave a happy living is: <br />To have your hands with rubies bright to glow, <br />Then on your tortoise-bed your body throw, <br />And sink your self in down, to drink in gold, <br />And have your looser self in purple roll'd; <br />With royal fare to make the tables groan, <br />Or else with what from Lybick fields is mown, <br />Nor in one vault hoard all your magazine, <br />But at no cowards fate t' have frighted bin; <br />Nor with the peoples breath to be swol'n great, <br />Nor at a drawn stiletto basely swear. <br />He that dares this, nothing to him's unfit, <br />But proud o' th' top of fortunes wheel may sit.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pentadii/
