That glorious lives in history;
Nor memory’s rich fane amuse my head,
Where no one lives but when he’s dead.
I had much rather, while I life enjoy,
The precious moments all employ,
With my lov’d Silvia, and delicious wine,
Both wonderful, and both divine.
For that I truly live, and healthy prove,
Is that I drink, and that I love.
This is exactly the same thing that Racan said to Maynard in this ode[7].