FROM LUCRETIUS.

Suave, mari magno turbantibus.—Lib. II. v. 1.

Sweet is it, when the stormy winds have rousedThe boisterous ocean, from on shore to viewThe toiling mariner; not that the painOf others gives us pleasure, but for thatTo see what ills we ’scape ourselves is sweet:And it is sweet, when armies on the plainArray’d for battle join in mortal strife,To stand aloof from danger and look on:But nothing sweeter is, than all sereneIn the strong towers of wisdom high to dwell,And thence look down upon the wandering raceOf men, that vainly seek the path of life;Vying in genius, or nobility;With unabated labour, night and dayStriving to rise supreme in wealth or power.

Sweet is it, when the stormy winds have roused

The boisterous ocean, from on shore to view

The toiling mariner; not that the pain

Of others gives us pleasure, but for that

To see what ills we ’scape ourselves is sweet:

And it is sweet, when armies on the plain

Array’d for battle join in mortal strife,

To stand aloof from danger and look on:

But nothing sweeter is, than all serene

In the strong towers of wisdom high to dwell,

And thence look down upon the wandering race

Of men, that vainly seek the path of life;

Vying in genius, or nobility;

With unabated labour, night and day

Striving to rise supreme in wealth or power.

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