prelude to a bliss

Prelude to a Bliss

Was Falstaff ever young and thin,
Or less addicted to his sin?

I would have had him on Bermuda’s shores,
Perhaps, retiring on the fat Azores,
Feasting on sweet Madeira’s ruby berries,
Or another of the warm Canaries –
Believed to be the Islands of the Blest,
Where Homer said Greek heroes take their rest.
Sertorius could have skipped the wars
And bloody Sulla, locked ambition’s doors
Upon these isles in anonymity,
Well-insulated by a tropic sea.
And thus Sertorius thought to do, to die
In peace. An t’were, like-tested, so would I.