To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest
To be in that calamitous prison left.
Milton.
From adverse shores in safety let her hear
Foreign calamity, and distant war;
Of which, great heav’n, let her no portion bear.
Prior.
Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief;
Mistaken kindness! Our hearts heal too soon,
Are they more kind than He who struck the blow?