THE LORD OF SELF. 45 THE LORD OF SELF. How happy is he born and taught Whose passions not his masters are, Who envies none that chance doth raise, Who hath his life from rumours freed; Who God doth late and early pray -This Man is freed from servile bands Sir Henry Wotton. 46 THE MODERATE WISHER. THE MODERATE WISHER. THIS only grant me, that my means may lie Some honour I would have, Not from great deeds, but good alone; Rumour can ope the grave: Acquaintance I would have; but when't depends Books should, not business, entertain the light, Than palace, and should fitting be For all my use; no luxury. My garden painted o'er With Nature's hand, not Art's; and pleasures yield, Thus would I double my life's fading space, These unbought sports, that happy state, But boldly say each night, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them; I have liv'd to-day. A. Cowley. THE STEDFAST LIFE. 47 THE STEDFAST LIFE. WHO is the honest man? He that doth still, and strongly, good pursue; Whose honesty is not So loose or easy that a ruffling wind Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay What place, or person calls for, he doth pay. Whom none can work, or woo, To use in any thing a trick or sleight; For above all things he abhors deceit. His words, and works, and fashion, too, All of one piece; and all are clear and straight. Who never melts or thaws At close temptations. When the day is done, 48 THE PERFECT LIFE. Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. Whom nothing can procure, When the wide world runs bias, from his will Who still is right, and prays to be so still. George Herbert. THE PERFECT LIFE. IT is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be; Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night— B. Jonson. THE VIRTUOUS SOUL. 49 THE VIRTUOUS SOUL. SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, Only a sweet and virtuous soul, G. Herbert. 4 Elder Poets. |