SEEK not to learn, Leuconoe,
(For it befits not such as we)
What term of life to thee or me
Allots the silent destiny;
Nor tempt Chaldean witchery.
Whatever comes, 't were better, sure,
Only in silence to endure,
Whether Jove more winters send,
Or this shall be for us the end
Which beats to death the Tyrian waves
Within our hard coast's rocky caves.
Learn truer wit, thy rich wines strain;
To life's short span thy high hopes train.
The jealous time, e'en while we stay
To talk, is stealing swift away.
The present seize! the coming day,
Trust it as little as ye may.
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