THE CENTURY OF LIFE
THE RARITY OF THE ALTRUIST
Low minds cnough there are who only care
To fill their lusts with pleasure, miws with food. Where shall we find him, the high soul and rare
To whom the good of others is his good? First of the saints is he, first of the wise.
The Red Mare of the Occan drinks the seas
Her own insatiable fire to feed;
The cloud for greater ends cxacis his need, The parching heats to cool, Earth’s pain to ease. Wealth’s sole good is to heal the unhappy’s sighs,
STATESMAN AND POET
How like are these whose labour does not cease, Statesman and poct, in their several cares; Anxious their task, no work of splendid ease! One ranges far for costly words, prepares Pure forms and violence popular disdains, The voice of rare assemblies strives to find, Slowly adds phrase to noble phrase and means Each line around the human heart to wind. The statesman seeks the nation’s wealth from far; Not to the easy way of violence prone He puts from him the brutal clang of war And seeks a better kind dominion, To please the just in their assemblies high, Slowly to build his careful steps between A noble line of linkéd policy,-— He shapes his acts a nation’s heart to win.
Their burden and their toil make these two kin.
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