Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) - 1.1.1. How come, Maecenas lyrics

How come, Maecenas, no one alive's ever content With the lot he chose or the one fate threw in his way, But praises those who pursue some alternative track? ‘O fortunate tradesman!' the ageing soldier cries Body shattered by harsh service, bowed by the years. The merchant however, ship tossed by a southern gale, Says: ‘Soldiering's better. And why? You charge and then: It's a quick d**h in a moment, or a joyful victory won.' When a client knocks hard on his door before co*kcrow The adept in justice and law praises the farmer's life, While he, going bail and having been dragged up to town From the country, proclaims only town-dwellers happy. Quoting all the other numerous examples would tire Even that windbag Fabius. So to avoid delaying you, Here's what I'm getting at. If some god said: ‘Here I am! Now I'll perform whatever you wish: you be a merchant Who but now was a soldier: you the lawyer become a farmer: You change roles with him, he with you, and depart. Well! What are you waiting for? They'd refuse, on the verge of bliss. What in reason would stop Jove rightly swelling his cheeks Then, in anger, and declaring that never again will he Be so obliging as to attend to their prayers.