How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!
Queen Mab, Pt. V. P.B. SHELLEY.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work.
King Henry, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
MACDUFF. I know this is a joyful trouble to you,
But yet, 'tis one.
MACBETH. The labor we delight in physics pain.
Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
Cheered with the view, man went to till the ground
From, whence he rose; sentenced indeed to toil,
As to a punishment, yet (even in wrath,
So merciful is heaven) this toil became
The solace of his woes, the sweet employ
Of many a livelong hour, and surest guard
Against disease and death.
Death. B. PORTEUS.
Like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year
With profitable labor to his grave.
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Hath the forehand and vantage of a king.
King Henry V., Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman? [A]
J. BALL.
[Footnote A: Lines used by John Ball, to encourage the rebels in Wat
Tyler's rebellion. Hume's History of England, Vol. i.]
Joy to the Toiler!—him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that thrills
The wilderness profound.
Songs of the Toiler. B. HATHAWAY.