Carriag❜d a furlong are, the coachman may
For se'nnight after let his horses play;
And yet this fellow, whom abroad you shall
Perceive so noble and so liberal,
To gain a day's, perhaps but one hour's fame,
'Mong those that hardly will enquire his name,
At home, where ev'ry good and ev'ry ill
Remains to honour or to shame him still,
Neglects humanity; yea, where he lives,.
And needs must love, all cause of hatred gives:
To poll, to rack, to ruin, and oppress
The poor, the widow, and the fatherless;
To shift, to lie, to cozen, and delay.
The lab'rer and the creditor of pay,.
Are there his practices. And yet this ass
Would for a man of worth and honour pass ::
The Devil he shall as soon; and I will write
The story of his being convertite.
I care not for the world's vain blast of fame,
Nor do I greatly fear the trump of shame;
For whatsoever good or ill is done,
The rumour of it in a week is gone:
One thing puts out another, and men sorrow
To-day, perhaps, for what they joy to-morrow;
And it is likely that, e'er night, they may
Condemn the man they praised yesterday,
Hang him next morning, and be sorry then,
Because he cannot be alive again.
But grant the fame of things had larger date, Alas! what glory is it, if men prate
In some three parishes of what we do,
When three great kingdoms are but mole-hills to
The earth's circumference, and scarce one man
Of twenty millions know our actions can?
Believe me, it is worth so little thought,
If the offence to others were not ought,
What men's opinions or their speeches be,
That were there not a better cause in me
Which mov'd to virtue, I would never care,
Whether my actions good or evil were.
Though still unheeded of the world I spend
My time and studies to the noblest end,
One hair I care not; for I find reward
Beyond the world's requital or regard.
And since all men some things erroneous do,
And must in justice somewhat suffer too,
In part of my correction this I take,
And that I favour'd am, account do make.
I care not, though there ev'ry hour should be
Some outward discontent to busy me;
And, as I would not too much trial have,
So too much carnal peace I do not crave:
The one might give my faith a dang❜rous blow,
The other would pervert my life, I know;
For few love virtue in adversity,
But fewer hold it in prosperity.
Vain hopes, when I had nought but hopes alone,
Have made me err; then whither had I gone,
If I the full possession had attain'd,
When but mere hopes my heart to folly train'd?
Smooth ways would make me wanton, and my
Must lie where labour, industry, and force
Must work me passage, or I shall not keep
My soul from dull security's dead sleep;
But outward discontentments make me fly
Far higher than the world's contents do lie.
I neither for their pomp or glory care,
Who by the love of vice advanced are.
Fair virtue is the lovely nymph I serve';
Her will I follow, her commands observe;
Yea, though the purblind world perceive not where,
The best of all her favors I do wear;
And when great vices, with fair baited hooks,
Large promises of favour-tempting looks,
And twenty wiles, hath woo'd me to betray
That noble mistress I have turn'd away,
And flung defiance both at them and theirs,
In spite of all their gaudy servitors.
In which brave daring, I oppos'd have been
By mighty tyrants, and was plunged in
More wants than thrice my fortune would have borne ;
When our heroes did or fear or scorn
To lend me succour; yea, in that weak age
When I but newly enter'd on the stage
Of this proud world, so that unless the king
Had nobly pleas'd to hear the Muses sing
My bold apology, till now might I
Have struggling been beneath their tyranny.
But all those threat'ning comets I have seen
Blaze, till their glories quite extinct have been ;
And I, that crusht and lost was thought to be,
Live yet to pity those that spited me,
Enjoying hopes which so well grounded are,
That what may follow I nor fear nor care.
Yet those I know there be, who do expect
What length my hopes shall have and what
effect,
With envious eyes awaiting ev'ry day
When all my confidence shall slip away,
And make me glad through those base paths to fly Which they have trod to raise their fortunes by.
They flout to hear that I do conscience make,
What place I sue for or what course I take;
They laugh to see me spend my youthful time
In serious studies, and to teach my rhyme
The strains of virtue, whilst I might perchance
By lines of ribaldry myself advance
To place of favour. They make scoffs to hear
The praise of honesty, as if it were
For none but vulgar minds; and since they live
In brave prosperity, they do believe
It shall continue, and account of me
As one scarce worthy of their scorn to be.
All this is truth; yea, trust me, care I not,
Nor love I virtue aught the worse a jot;
For I oft said, that I should live to see
My way far safer than their courses be.
And I have seen, nor one, nor two, nor ten,
But, in few years, great number of those men
From goodly bravery to rags decline,
And wait upon as poor a fate as mine.
Yea, those whom but a day or two before Were, in their own vain hopes, a great deal more Than any of our ancient baronage,
And such as many wise men of this age
Have wish'd to be the men, e'en those have I
Seen hurled down to shame and beggary
|