Читать книгу The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Volume 2 - Бенджамин Франклин - Страница 10

There are a number of us creep

Into this world, to eat and sleep;

And know no reason why they ’re born,

But merely to consume the corn,

Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish,

And leave behind an empty dish.

Though crows and Ravens do the same,

Unlucky birds of hateful name,

Ravens or crows might fill their places,

And swallow corn and eat carcáses.

Then, if their tomb-stone, when they die,

Be n’t taught to flatter and to lie,

There ’s nothing better will be said,

Than that they ’ve eat up all their bread,

Drunk all their drink, and gone to bed.

There are other fragments of that heathen poet which occur on such occasions; one in the first of his Satires, the other in the last of his Epistles, which seem to represent life only as a season of luxury:

. . . Exacto contentus tempore vitæ

Cedat, uti conviva satur

Lusisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti;

Tempus abire tibi est.

Which may be thus put into English:

Life ’s but a feast; and when we die,

Horace would say, if he were by:

“Friend, thou hast eat and drunk enough,

‘T is time now to be marching off;

Then like a well-fed guest depart,

With cheerful looks, and ease at heart;

Bid all your friends good night, and say,

You ’ve done the business of the day.”