those should for whom the book of Fortune is closed.
We, alas! are still called to turn page after page. You
have won your rest: you have no expanse of sea to 15
plough, no Ausonian fields to chase, still retiring as
you advance. Your eyes look upon a copy of the old
Xanthus, upon a Troy which your own hands have made—made,
I would hope and pray, with happier auspices, and
with less peril of a visit from Greece. If the day ever 20
arrive when I shall enter Tiber and the fields that neighbour
Tiber, and look on the walls which Fate has made