683. The Old Stoic

RICHES I hold in light esteem,

And Love I laugh to scorn;

And lust of fame was but a dream,

That vanish’d with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer

That moves my lips for me

Is, ’Leave the heart that now I bear,

And give me liberty!’

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,

’Tis all that I implore;

In life and death a chainless soul

With courage to endure.