As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose;
Nor suffer sleep at night thy eyes to close,
Till thrice that diary thou hast o'errun;
How slipt? what deeds, what duty left undone?
Thus thy account summ'd up from first to last,
Grieve for the ill, joy for what good hath past.
These, if thou study, practise, and affect,
To sacred Virtue will thy steps direct.
Nature's eternal fountain I attest,
50Who did the soul with fourfold power invest.