To Mrs. Higgons
Occasioned by same verses written by that lady, and sent the Author in his retirement, 1690.
Cease, tempting Syren! cease thy flatt'ring strain;
Sweet is thy charming song, but sung in vain.
When the winds blow, and loud the tempests roar,
What fool would trust the waves and quit the shore?
Early and vain into the world I came,
Big with false hopes, and eager after fame,
Till looking round me ere the race began,
Madmen and giddy souls were all that ran.
Reclaim'd betimes I from the lists retire,
And thank the gods who my retreat inspire.
In happier times our ancestors were bred,
When virtue was the only path to tread.
Give me, ye Gods! but the same road to same;
Whate'er my fathers dar'd I dare the same.
Chang'd is the scene; some baneful planet rules
An impious world, contriv'd for knaves and fools.
Look now around, and with impartial eyes
Consider and examine all who rise;
Weigh well their actions and their treach'rous ends,
How greatness grows, and by what steps ascends;
What murders, treasons, perjuries, deceit;
How many crush'd to make one monster great!
Would you command, have Fortune in your pow'r?
Hug when you stab, and smile when you devour;
Be bloody, false, flatter, forswear, and lie;
Turn pander, pathic, parasite, or spy;
Such thriving arts may your wish'd purpose bring,
A minister at least, perhaps a king.
Fortune we most unjustly partial call,
A mistress free, who bids alike to all;
But on such terms as only suit the base;
Honour denies, and shuns the soul embrace.
The honest man, who starves and is undone,
Not Fortune, but his virtue, keeps him down.
Had Cato bent beneath the conqu'ring cause,
He might have liv'd to give new Senates laws;
But on vile terms disdaining to be great,
He perish'd by his choice, and not his fate.
Honours and life th' usurper bids, and all
That vain mistaken men Good-fortune call;
Virtue forbids, and sets before his eyes
An honest death, which he accepts, and dies.
O glorious resolution! noble pride!
More honour'd than the tyrant liv'd he dy'd;
More lov'd, more prais'd, more envy'd, in his doom
Than Caesar trampling on the rights of Rome.
The virtuous nothing fear but life with shame,
And death's a pleasant road that leads to fame.
On bones and scraps of dogs let me be fed,
My limbs uncover'd, and expos'd my head
To bleakest colds, a kennel be my bed:
This, and all other martyrdom, for thee
Seems glorious all, thrice-beauteous Honesty!
Judge me, ye Pow'rs! let Fortune tempt or frown,
I stand prepar'd; my honour is my own.
Ye great Disturbers! who, in endless noise,
In blood and rapine, seek unnat'ral joys;
For what is all this bustle but to shun
Those thoughts with which you dare not be alone?
As men in misery, oppress'd with care,
Seek in the rage of wine to drown despair.
Let others fight, and eat their bread in blood,
Regardless if the cause be bad or good,
Or cringe in courts, depending on the nods
Of strutting pigmies, who would pass for gods;
For me, unpractis'd in the courtiers' school,
Who loathe a knave, and tremble at a fool;
Who honour gen'rous Wycherley opprest,
Possess'd of little, worthy of the best;
Rich in himself, in virtue that outshines
All but the same of his immortal lines,
More than the wealthiest lord, who helps to drain
The famish'd land, and rolls in impious gain;
What can I hope in courts, or how succeed?
Tigers and wolves shall in the ocean breed,
The whale and dolphin fatten on the mead,
And ev'ry element exchange its kind,
Ere thriving Honesty in courts we find.
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content;
In thought or act accountable to none
But to himself and to the gods alone.
O sweetness of Content! seraphic joy!
Which nothing wants, and nothing can destroy.
Where dwells this peace, this freedom, of the mind?
Where but in shades remote from human-kind,
In flow'ry vales, where nymphs and shepherds meet,
But never comes within the palace-gate.
Farewell then, Cities; Courts and Camps, farewell;
Welcome ye Groves! here let me ever dwell;
From cares, from bus'ness and mankind, remove,
All but the Muses and inspiring Love.
How sweet the morn, how gentle is the night!
How calm the ev'ning, and the day how bright!
From hence, as from a hill, I view below
The crowded world, a mighty wood in show!
Where sev'ral wand'rers travel day and night
By diff'rent paths, and none are in the right.
Cease, tempting Syren! cease thy flatt'ring strain;
Sweet is thy charming song, but sung in vain.
When the winds blow, and loud the tempests roar,
What fool would trust the waves and quit the shore?
Early and vain into the world I came,
Big with false hopes, and eager after fame,
Till looking round me ere the race began,
Madmen and giddy souls were all that ran.
Reclaim'd betimes I from the lists retire,
And thank the gods who my retreat inspire.
In happier times our ancestors were bred,
When virtue was the only path to tread.
Give me, ye Gods! but the same road to same;
Whate'er my fathers dar'd I dare the same.
Chang'd is the scene; some baneful planet rules
An impious world, contriv'd for knaves and fools.
Look now around, and with impartial eyes
Consider and examine all who rise;
Weigh well their actions and their treach'rous ends,
How greatness grows, and by what steps ascends;
What murders, treasons, perjuries, deceit;
How many crush'd to make one monster great!
Would you command, have Fortune in your pow'r?
Hug when you stab, and smile when you devour;
Be bloody, false, flatter, forswear, and lie;
Turn pander, pathic, parasite, or spy;
Such thriving arts may your wish'd purpose bring,
A minister at least, perhaps a king.
Fortune we most unjustly partial call,
A mistress free, who bids alike to all;
But on such terms as only suit the base;
Honour denies, and shuns the soul embrace.
The honest man, who starves and is undone,
Not Fortune, but his virtue, keeps him down.
Had Cato bent beneath the conqu'ring cause,
He might have liv'd to give new Senates laws;
But on vile terms disdaining to be great,
He perish'd by his choice, and not his fate.
Honours and life th' usurper bids, and all
That vain mistaken men Good-fortune call;
Virtue forbids, and sets before his eyes
An honest death, which he accepts, and dies.
O glorious resolution! noble pride!
More honour'd than the tyrant liv'd he dy'd;
More lov'd, more prais'd, more envy'd, in his doom
Than Caesar trampling on the rights of Rome.
The virtuous nothing fear but life with shame,
And death's a pleasant road that leads to fame.
On bones and scraps of dogs let me be fed,
My limbs uncover'd, and expos'd my head
To bleakest colds, a kennel be my bed:
This, and all other martyrdom, for thee
Seems glorious all, thrice-beauteous Honesty!
Judge me, ye Pow'rs! let Fortune tempt or frown,
I stand prepar'd; my honour is my own.
Ye great Disturbers! who, in endless noise,
In blood and rapine, seek unnat'ral joys;
For what is all this bustle but to shun
Those thoughts with which you dare not be alone?
As men in misery, oppress'd with care,
Seek in the rage of wine to drown despair.
Let others fight, and eat their bread in blood,
Regardless if the cause be bad or good,
Or cringe in courts, depending on the nods
Of strutting pigmies, who would pass for gods;
For me, unpractis'd in the courtiers' school,
Who loathe a knave, and tremble at a fool;
Who honour gen'rous Wycherley opprest,
Possess'd of little, worthy of the best;
Rich in himself, in virtue that outshines
All but the same of his immortal lines,
More than the wealthiest lord, who helps to drain
The famish'd land, and rolls in impious gain;
What can I hope in courts, or how succeed?
Tigers and wolves shall in the ocean breed,
The whale and dolphin fatten on the mead,
And ev'ry element exchange its kind,
Ere thriving Honesty in courts we find.
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content;
In thought or act accountable to none
But to himself and to the gods alone.
O sweetness of Content! seraphic joy!
Which nothing wants, and nothing can destroy.
Where dwells this peace, this freedom, of the mind?
Where but in shades remote from human-kind,
In flow'ry vales, where nymphs and shepherds meet,
But never comes within the palace-gate.
Farewell then, Cities; Courts and Camps, farewell;
Welcome ye Groves! here let me ever dwell;
From cares, from bus'ness and mankind, remove,
All but the Muses and inspiring Love.
How sweet the morn, how gentle is the night!
How calm the ev'ning, and the day how bright!
From hence, as from a hill, I view below
The crowded world, a mighty wood in show!
Where sev'ral wand'rers travel day and night
By diff'rent paths, and none are in the right.
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