Faded his late declining years away.
Cheerful he gave his being up, and went
To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent.
That life was happy. Every day he gave
Thanks for the fair existence that was his;
For a sick fancy made him not her slave,
To mock him with her phantom miseries.
No chronic tortures racked his aged limbs,
For luxury and sloth had nourished none for him.
Why weep ye, then, for him, who, having won