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And some delight to me the while,
If the all-ruling power please,
We then shall have a day or two,
A day, with not too bright a beam,
There, whilst behind some bush we wait, The scaly people to betray,
We'll prove it just, with treach'rous bait,
To make the quick-ey'd trout our prey.
And think ourselves in such an hour, Happier than those, tho' not so high, Who, like leviathans, devour
Of meaner men the smaller fry.
This, my best friend, at my poor home,
LIKE hermit poor, in pensive place obscure,
Where none but love shall ever find me out:
gown of grey my body shall attire,
My staff, of broken hope, whereon I'll stay,
Of late repentance link'd with long desire,
My food shall be of care and sorrow made,
My drink nought else but tears fall'n from mine eyes, And for my light in this obscure shade, The flames may serve which from my And at my gates, &c.
My mind to me a kingdom is,
That God or nature hath assign'd.
Content I live, this is my stay,
I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look what I lack my mind supplies. Lo! thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring.
I see how plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as sit aloft,
Mishap doth threaten most of all: These get with toil, and keep with fear; Such cares my mind could never bear.
No princely pomp, or wealthy store,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
To none of these I yield as thrall;
Some have too much, yet still they crave,
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
I laugh not at another's loss;
I grudge not at another's gain :
My wealth is health, and perfect ease; My conscience clear, my chief defence: I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence: Thus do I live, thus will I die: Would all did so as well as I!
I joy not in no earthly bliss;
I weigh not Croesus's wealth a straw: For care, I care not what it is;
I fear not fortune's fatal law: My mind is such as may not move For beauty bright or force of love.
I wish but what I have at will;
I kiss not where I wish to kill;
The court, ne cart, I like ne loath,
Extremes are counted worst of all; The golden mean betwixt them both Doth surest fit, and fears no fall. This is my choice: for why? I find No wealth is like a quiet mind.
Calliope, a Collection of Songs.
HEAV'N, what an age is this! what race
Thus fly in the Almighty's face,
And with his providence make war!