"Ah, wait! until I charm your eyes,"
Said Jupiter, "from fallacies."
He looked again, and saw the breast
Like a rough ocean—ne'er at rest:
Fear, guilt, and conscience gnawed the heart;
Extortion ever made it smart—
It seemed as if no sunlit gleam
Could brighten it in thought or dream.
"Ah! may the gods," he cried, "reject
My prayer for gold, and comfort wreckt:
But see yon minister of state,
And the gay crowd who proudly wait!"
"A second time I charm your eyes,"
Said Jove, "from mortal fallacies."
He looked again, and saw a breast
Gnawed by corruption, wanting rest:
He saw him one time drunk with power,
Tottering upon Ambition's tower;
Then, seized with giddiness and fear,
Seeing his downfall in his rear,
"O Jupiter!" the rustic said,
"Give me again my plough and spade."
But Jupiter was not contented:
The rustic's griefs he still resented.
So he deployed before his sight
The lawyer's and the soldier's plight;
The miseries of war and law,
The battle-field and legal flaw.
"O Jupiter!" the rustic said,
"Restore me to the plough and spade."
Then Jupiter: "You mortals blunder:
There is no happiness in thunder;
For happiness, to nought confined,
Is found in the contented mind:
Go home again, and be contented,
Nor grumble more like one demented."
Then Jupiter, to aid the clown,
Where he had found him put him down.
