The Fables of Florian (tr. Phelps), Closing Lines

CLOSING LINES.

'Tis done: the lyre is mute;
My labors here must have an end;
Though still the Muse might wrongs impute,
That should perchance our manners mend,
(If she but had an abler friend).

But no; her work would prove in vain;
For the world's folly, int'rest, pride,
Will e'er bring trouble in their train,
However much they be decried.
'Tis vain that philosophic sects
May censure man for his defects;
They waste their wisdom and their rhymes.
Let the world wag! Go with the times!

Or live retir'd, content and free,
In some deep-hid obscurity.
There, what could fail us that might bless

Our lives with perfect happiness?
Save gentle peace, a tranquil lot;
Our only wish to be forgot;
Our sole endeavor how to shun
The ills by which we're prey'd upon;
With wealth enough with friends to share,
But not to waken envy there.

THE END

Where this page came from

This page was imported from Wikisource. “The Fables of Florian (tr. Phelps)” by Jean Pierre Claris de Florian (1888) is in the public domain; the text is as transcribed and proofread by Wikisource's volunteers.

Nobody has written it yet — it is the source material at a new address, which is why search engines are asked to skip it and why no one earns from it. It is up for grabs: take it on, and it is yours to rewrite and to earn from.