The Three Ages of Life.
Observe what wisdom shines in that decree,
Which, varying life, appoints our ages three,
Youth, manhood, and decline. In these we trace
A rich proportion, and harmonious grace.
Deprived of either life would charm no more:
A whirl of passion, or a desert shore.
If all were young, and this a world of boys,
Heavens! what a scene of trifles, tricks, and toys!
How would each minute of the live-long day,
In wild, obstreperous frolic, waste away!
A world of boys! defend us from a brood
So wanton, rash, improvident, and rude;
Truants from duty, and in arts unskilled,
Their minds and manners, like their fields, untilled;
Their furniture, of gaudy trinkets made;
Sweetmeats their staple article of trade;
No fruit allowed to ripen on the tree,
And not a bird's-nest from invasion free.
In public life, there still would meet your sight,
The same neglect of duty and of right.
Pray, for example, take a stripling court,
And see which there would triumph, law or sport:
"Adjourn, adjourn," some beardless judge would say,
"I'll hear the trial when I've done my play!"
Or, if the judge sat faithful to the laws,
Hear how the counsel might defend his cause.
"May't please your Honour—'tis your turn to stop,
I'll spin my speech, when I have spun my top."
Meanwhile the jury pluck each other's hair,
The bar toss notes and dockets into air,
The sheriff, ordered to keep silence, cries,
"Oh, yes! oh, yes! when I have caught these flies."
Such were the revellings of this giddy sphere,
Should youth alone enjoy dominion here.
All glory, mischief; and all business, play—
And life itself, a misspent holiday.
Now let us take a soberer view again,
And make this world a world of full-grown men,
Stiff, square, and formal, dull, morose, and sour,
Contented slaves, yet tyrants when in power;
The firmest friends, where interest forms the tie,
The bitterest foes, where rival interests vie;
Skilled to dissemble, and to smile by rule,
In passions raging, while in conduct cool;
