And such, since thou canst make thine own content, Go enter breaches, meet the cannon's rage, And change possessions oftner with his breath, Let him, than hardest sires, more disinherit, Get place and honour, and be glad to keep Thy peace is made; and when man's state is well, 'Tis better, if he there can dwell. God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf: To him man's dearer, than t' himself," And howsoever we may think things sweet, C He always gives what he knows meet; 2 God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf: To him man's dearer than t' himself.] The sentiment, with the Which who can use is happy: Such be thou. Nor death; but when thy latest sand is spent, IV. TO THE WORLD. A Farewell for a Gentlewoman, virtuous and noble. ALSE world, good-night! since thou hast brought age, That hour upon my morn of Do not once hope that thou canst tempt Upon thy throat, and live exempt From all the nets that thou canst spread. following verses, is taken from that celebrated passage in the 10th satire of Juvenal: Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano. A shelf, or shelve, is a bank of sand. WHAL. 3 Thou may'st think life a thing but lent.] This is a very beautiful Epode, honourable alike to the writer, and the subject of it. How nobly do Jonson's lines rise above the common addresses of his age! he is familiar with decorum, and moral with dignity; while his unbounded command of classic images gives a force to his language, which renders his description of the humblest object interesting. I know thy forms are studied arts, And what thou call'st thy gifts are baits. I know too, though thou strut and paint, Yet art thou both shrunk up, and old; That only fools make thee a saint, And all thy good is to be sold. I know thou whole art but a shop And knowing this should I yet stay, Enamour'd of their golden gyves ? Or having 'scaped shall I return, What bird, or beast is known so dull, If these who have but sense, can shun The engines, that have them annoy'd; Little for me had reason done, If I could not thy gins avoid. Yes, threaten, do. Alas, I fear As little, as I hope from thee: My tender, first, and simple years Where breathe the basest of thy fools; Where envious arts professed be, And pride and ignorance the schools: Where nothing is examin'd, weigh'd, But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed; Where every freedom is betray'd, And every goodness tax'd or grieved. If't chance to me, I must not grutch. To age, misfortune, sickness, grief: Nor for my peace will I go far, As wanderers do, that still do roam; But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home. V. SONG. TO CELIA. OME, my Celia, let us prove, 'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal, But the sweet theft to reveal: To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been. VI. TO THE SAME. ISS me, sweet: the wary lover Kiss again no creature comes. Kiss, and score up wealthy sums ▲ Come, my Celia, &c.] This beautiful song is to be found in |