Classic Poem

Of silver ore dull, Sallust, is the hue
While hoarded in the earth; and minds like thine
Wealth cannot charm unless with lustre due
To sober use it shine.

A life prolonged shall Proculeius know,
Who to his brethren gave a father's care.
Him upon pinions that ne'er weary grow
Undying Fame will bear.

Curb but thy wants, a wider realm thou'lt hold,
Than if far Gades joined to Libya's plain
Were all thine own, with Carthage new and old
For parts of one domain.

Fell dropsic thirst by self-indulgence fed
Grows till the virus from the veins be cast,
And the sick lassitude of water bred
From the wan limbs have past.

Not Cyrus' throne regained, in Virtue's eyes
True happiness can to Phraates bring.
Virtue, that bids men vulgar tests despise
And words that falsely ring,

Hath kingship and a diadem secure
And lasting bays to him alone assigned,
Who turning from heaped treasure can endure
Not once to look behind.