Classic Poem

Great Destiny the Commissary of God,
That hast mark'd out a path and period
For every thing; who, where we offspring took
Our ways and ends, seest at one instant; Thou
Knot of all causes, thou whose changeless brow
Ne'er smiles nor frowns, O vouch thou safe to look
And show my story, in thy eternal book:
That (if my prayer be fit) I may understand
So much myself, as to know with what hand,
How scant, or liberal this my life's race is spanned.

To my six lustres almost now outwore,
Except thy book owe me so many more,
Except my legend be free from the lets
Of steep ambition, sleepy poverty,
Spirit-quenching sickness, dull captivity,
Distracting business, and from beauty's nets,
And all that calls from this, and to others whets,
O let me not launch out, but let me save
Th'expense of brain and spirit; that my grave
His right and due, a whole unwasted man may have.

But if my days be long, and good enough,
In vain this sea shall enlarge, or enrough
Itself; for I will through the wave, and foam,
And shall, in sad lone ways a lively sprite,
Make my dark heavy poem light, and light.
For though through many straits, and lands I roam,
I launch at paradise, and I sail towards home;
The course I there began, shall here be stay'd,
Sails hoisted there, struck here, and anchors laid
In Thames, which were at Tigris, and Euphrates weighed.

For the great soul which here amongst us now
Doth dwell, and moves that hand, and tongue, and brow,
Which, as the moon the sea, moves us; to hear
Whose story, with long patience you will long;
(For 'tis the crown, and last strain of my song)
This soul to whom Luther, and Mahomet were
Prisons of flesh; this soul which oft did tear,
And mend the wrecks of th'Empire, and late Rome,
And liv'd when every great change did come,
Had first in paradise, a low, but fatal room.