If with an open, bounteous hand
—Wholly left at man's command—
Fortune should in one rich flow
As many heaps on him bestow
Of massy gold, as there be sands
Toss'd by the waves and winds rude bands,
Or bright stars in a winter night
Decking their silent orbs with light;
Yet would his lust know no restraints,
Nor cease to weep in sad complaints.
Though Heaven should his vows regard,
And in a prodigal reward
Return him all he could implore,
Adding new honours to his store,
Yet all were nothing. Goods in sight
Are scorn'd, and lust in greedy flight
Lays out for more; what measure then
Can tame these wild desires of men?
Since all we give both last and first
Doth but inflame, and feed their thirst.
For how can he be rich, who 'midst his store
Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor.
METRUM III.
When the sun from his rosy bed
The dawning light begins to shed,
The drowsy sky uncurtains round,
And the—but now bright—stars all drown'd
In one great light look dull and tame,
And homage his victorious flame.
Thus, when the warm Etesian wind
The Earth's seal'd bosom doth unbind,
Straight she her various store discloses,
And purples every grove with roses;
But if the South's tempestuous breath
Breaks forth, those blushes pine to death.
Oft in a quiet sky the deep
With unmov'd waves seems fast asleep,
And oft again the blust'ring North
In angry heaps provokes them forth.
If then this world, which holds all nations,
Suffers itself such alterations,
That not this mighty massy frame,
Nor any part of it can claim
One certain course, why should man prate,
Or censure the designs of Fate?
Why from frail honours, and goods lent
Should he expect things permanent?
Since 'tis enacted by Divine decree
That nothing mortal shall eternal be.
METRUM IV.
Who wisely would for his retreat
Build a secure and lasting seat,
Where stov'd in silence he may sleep
Beneath the wind, above the deep;
Let him th' high hills leave on one hand,
And on the other the false sand.
The first to winds lies plain and even,
From all the blust'ring points of heaven;
The other, hollow and unsure,
No weight of building will endure.
Avoiding then the envied state
Of buildings bravely situate,
Remember thou thyself to lock
Within some low neglected rock.
There when fierce heaven in thunder chides,
And winds and waves rage on all sides,
Thou happy in the quiet sense
Of thy poor cell, with small expense
Shall lead a life serene and fair,
And scorn the anger of the air.
METRUM V.
Happy that first white age! when we
Lived by the Earth's mere charity.
No soft luxurious diet then
Had effeminated men,
No other meat, nor wine had any
Than the coarse mast, or simple honey,
And by the parents' care laid up
Cheap berries did the children sup.
No pompous wear was in those days
Of gummy silks, or scarlet baize,
Their beds were on some flow'ry brink,
And clear spring-water was their drink.
The shady pine in the sun's heat
Was their cool and known retreat,
For then 'twas not cut down, but stood
The youth and glory of the wood.
The daring sailor with his slaves
Then had not cut the swelling waves,
Nor for desire of foreign store
Seen any but his native shore.
No stirring drum had scarr'd that age,
Nor the shrill trumpet's active rage,
No wounds by bitter hatred made
With warm blood soil'd the shining blade;
For how could hostile madness arm
An age of love, to public harm?
When common justice none withstood,
Nor sought rewards for spilling blood.
O that at length our age would raise
Into the temper of those days!
But—worse than Ætna's fires!—debate
And avarice inflame our State.
Alas! who was it that first found
Gold, hid of purpose under ground,
That sought our pearls, and div'd to find
Such precious perils for mankind!
METRUM VII.
He that thirsts for glory's prize,
Thinking that the top of all,
Let him view th' expansèd skies,
And the earth's contracted ball;
'Twill shame him then: the name he wan
Fills not the short walk of one man.