Classic Poem

1.

N E 're trouble thy self at the Times nor their turnings,
Afflictions run circular, and wheele about,
Away with these Murmurings, and these Heartburnings,
With the Juyce of the Grape wee'l quench the Fire out,
Ne're chain, nor imprison thy Soul up in sorrow,
What fails us to day, may befriend us to morrow,
Wee'l scorn our Content from others to borrow.

2.

Though Fortune hath left us wee'le strive to regain her,
And court her with Cupps till her Favourite come,
Then with a Courage untam'd wee'le maintain her,
And silence the noyse of the Enemies Drum,
Wee'le link her unto the Man most deserving,
Shall keep her at work, as well as from starving,
She shall not hereafter be at her own Carving.

3.

I hold him a Novice in Humane affairs,
Thinks whirlings in State a wonderous thing,
To daub up old Ruines with dirty repairs,
And instead of a Scepter to set up a Sling.
Such Atomes of Greatnesse are but Fortune's laughter,
She fattens them up 'till they're fitted for slaughter,
Then leaves them at Tiburn to Tittar and Tauter.