They reach the realms of tranquil bliss. Green spaces folded in with trees, A paradise of pleasances. - John Conington

Then come the clamour and the blare,
And shouts and clarions rend the air.

He who maligns an absent friend's fair fame,
Who says no word for him when others blame,
Who courts a reckless laugh by random hits,
Just for the sake of ranking among wits,
Who feigns what he ne'er saw, a secret blabs,
Beware him, Roman! that man steals or stabs!

Thou too take courage, wealth despise,
And fit thee to ascend the skies, Nor be a poor man's courtesies
Rejected or disdained.