No More Learning

But he, the mangled victim, now a ghost,
Sits pale and trembling on the Stygian coast,
A stranger shivering at the novel scene,
At Charon's threatening voice and scowling mien,
Nor hopes a passage thus abruptly hurled,
Without his farthing to the nether world.

In the dark there are equal perils.

Prepare for death if here at night you roam,
And sign your will before you sup from home.

Lucky if people throw only dirty water from their windows! Be thankful
to escape without a broken skull. A drunken bully may meet you.

There are who murder as an opiate take,
And only when no brawls await them, wake.

And what chance have you, without attendants, against a street rough?
Then there is the burglar; and the criminal classes are regularly
increased in town whenever the authorities grow active enough to clear
the main Italian roads of bandits.

The forge in fetters only is employed;
Our iron-mines exhausted and destroyed
In shackles; for these villains scarce allow
Goads for our teams or ploughshares for the plough.
Oh, happy ages of our ancestors,
Beneath the kings and tribunician powers!
One jail did all the criminals restrain,
Whom now the walls of Rome can scarce contain.


_III. --A Satire on the Vanity of Human Wishes_

Look round the habitable world; how few
Know their own good; or, knowing it, pursue.
To headlong ruin see whole houses driven,
Cursed with their prayers, by too indulgent heaven.
The several passions and aspirations of mankind, successively
examined in the light of legend and history, prove how hollow, if not
pernicious, are the principal objects of pursuit. Wealth is one of the
commonest aims.

But avarice spreads her deadly snare,
And hoards amassed with too successful care.
For wealth, in the black days, at Nero's word,
The ruffian bands unsheathed the murderous sword.
Cut-throats commissioned by the government
Are seldom to an empty garret sent.
The traveller freighted with a little wealth,
Sets forth at night, and wins his way by stealth:
Even then he fears the bludgeon and the blade--
Starts in the moonlight at a rush's shade,
While, void of care, the beggar trips along,
And to the robber's face will troll his song.

What would the "weeping" and the "laughing" sages of ancient Greece
have thought of the pageants of modern Rome? Consider the vanity of
ambition. It is illustrated by the downfall of the powerful minister
Sejanus. On his overthrow, the fickle mob turned savagely upon his
statues.

What think the people? They!
They follow fortune, as of old, and hate
With all their soul the victim of the state.
Yet in this very hour that self-same crowd
Had hailed Sejanus with a shout as loud,
If his designs (by fortune's favour blessed)
Had prospered, and the aged prince oppressed;
For since our votes have been no longer bought,
All public care has vanished from our thought.
Romans, who once with unresisted sway,
Gave armies, empire, everything, away,
For two poor claims have long renounced the whole
And only ask--the circus and a dole.

Would you rather be an instance of fallen greatness, or enjoy some
safe post in an obscure Italian town?