Classic Poem

No, no poore blasted Hope!
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
Of all my joyes, I will no more
Vainely implore
The unrelenting Destinies:
He that can equally sustain
The strong assaults of Joy or Pain,
May safely laugh at their Decrees.

Despaire, to thee I bow,
Whose constancy disdains t'allow
Those childish passions that destroy
Our fickle Joy;
How cruell Fates so e're appeare,
Their harmelesse anger I despise,
And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,
Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.