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'Tis better, if he there can dwell. God wisheth none should wreck on a strange
shelf: To Him man's dearer than t' himself, 11 And, howsoever we may think things sweet, He always gives what He knows meet; Which who can use is happy : such be thou. Thy morning's and thy evening's vow Be thanks to him, and earnest prayer, to find A body sound, with sounder mind; To do thy country service, thyself right; That neither want do thee affright, Nor death; but when thy latest sand is spent, Thou mayst think life a thing but lent.
A FAREWELL FOR A GENTLEWOMAN, VIRTUOUS AND NOBLE. False world, good night! since thou hast brought
That hour upon my morn of age,
My part is ended on thy stage.
A spirit so resolved to tread
11 Whalley traces this sentiment, and all verses that follow, to the well-known passage in the tenth Satire of Juvenal :
“Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid
Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris ;
Upon thy throat, and live exempt
From all the nets that thou canst spread. I know thy forms are studied arts,
Thy subtle ways be narrow straits ; Thy courtesy but sudden starts,
And what thou call'st thy gifts are baits. I know, too, though thou strut and paint, Yet art thou both shrunk
and old That only fools make thee a saint,
And all thy good is to be sold.
Of toys and trifles, traps and snares,
Yet thou art falser than thy wares. And, knowing this, should I yet stay,
Like such as blow away their lives, And never will redeem a day,
Enamored of their golden gyves ? Or, having 'scaped, shall I return,
And thrust my neck into the noose From whence, so lately, I did burn,
With all my powers, myself to loose ? What bird, or beast, is known so dull,
That fled his cage, or broke his chain,
Render his head in there again?
The engines that have them annoyed,
If I could not thy gins avoid.
Yes, threaten, do. Alas, I fear
As little, as I hope from thee;
More hatred than thou hast to me.
Thou didst abuse, and then betray ; Since stirr'dst up jealousies and fears,
When all the causes were away. Then in a soil hast planted me,
Where breathe the basest of thy fools; Where envious arts professèd be,
And pride and ignorance the schools; Where nothing is examined, weighed,
But as 'tis rumored, so believed ; Where every freedom is betrayed,
And every goodness taxed or grieved. But, what we're born for, we must bear:
Our frail condition it is such, That what to all may happen here,
If’t chanced to me, I must not grutch. Else I my state should much mistake,
To harbor a divided thought
There should a miracle be wrought.
To age, misfortune, sickness, grief; But I will bear these with that scorn,
As shall not need thy false relief. Nor for my peace will I
As wanderers do, that still do roam,
But make my strengths, such as they are,
Here in my bosom, and at home.
TO CELIA. 13
12 There is a striking resemblance between these lines and that passage in Beaumont's Elegy on the Countess of RntJand, beginning
“Mankind is sent to sorrow," &c. -- B. 13 These two charming songs, addressed to Celin, are imi. tated from Catullus. The first of the two is also to be found in Volpone. The same subject is treated with great grace and beauty by Herrick in one of his small lyrics. – B.
Kiss me, sweet: the wary lover
14 Skinner derives the name of Chelsea from shelves of sand and ey or ea, land situated near water; but Lysons prefers the etymology of Norden, who says that “it is so called from the nature of the place, whose strand is like the chesel (ceosel or cesol) which the sea casteth up of sand and pebblestones, thereof called Cheselsey, briefly Chelsey, as is Chelsey in Sussex.” -- Speculum Britanniæ. -- B.