And tho it be abroad adays, the Light
Still lodges in the Prifon of black Night
The Sea it self is to its Bounds confin'd,
And Æolus in Caves fhuts up the Wind.
Nothing in Nature has fuch vaft Extent,
But is imprison'd in its Element,

The Fish in watry Dungeons are inclos'd;
Men, Beasts and Birds, to Earth and Air difpos'd.
If to enlarge their narrow Bounds they strive,
The fatal Freedom rarely they furvive.
And as with them, we hope with us 'twill be,
When from their Prisons took,Death fets them free.
Man can no more a native Freedom. boast;
That Jewel ne'er was found fince firft 'twas loft,
'Twas then transported to the Stygian Coaft.
But ftill there's fomething which we do esteem,
Only because 'tis like the polifht Gem,
And this we Freedom call; its Credit grows
From a falfe Stamp, the gilded outside shows:
Which avaritious Men attempt to get,
Cheated and ruin'd with the Counterfeit.
Like Children, Soapy-bubbles they pursue,
And the fantastick Vision take for true;
But whilst they think bright Forms they do em-
Ixion-like, they find a Cloud i'th' place.

(brace,
Confent of Crouds exceeding Credit brings,
And seems to stamp Truth's Image on falfe things;
Not what's a real Good, but what does feem,
Still fhares the blind and popular Efteem.
Whilft Senfe and Fancy over-rule their Choice,
'And Reafon in th' Election has no Voice.
But Souls in vain have Reason's Attribute,
If to their Rule they cannot Senfe fubmit.
Hence the Heroick Mind makes no complaint,
But Freedom does enjoy, e'en in Restraint.
When Chains and Fetters do his Body bind,
He then appears more free, and lefs confin'd.

Difcord

Discord and Care, which do diftra&t him here,
In Durance take their leave, and come not there.
False Friends and Flatterers then take last adieu,
Who often swore how faithful and how true,
Things their dishonest Bofoms never knew.
Thefe, like the Swallows, in cold Weather fly;
A Summer's Fortune only draws them nigh.
Flatt'rers a fort of fatal Suckers be,

Which draw the Sap till they deftroy the Tree.
Fair Virtue to their Opticks when they bring,
Seems a deform'd and antiquated thing.
Vice they commend, whilst Virtue is defpis'd;
The Blackeft by these Negroes most are pris'd.
Thefe Slaves to Vice do hug fo hard and long,
Till like the o'er-fond Ape they kill their Young.
Ambition in the Mind's a feverish Thirst,
Which is by drinking drier than at first;
'And these will feed the Humor till it burst.
When Parasites the Arbiters are made,
They'l place the Garland on a Bedlam's Head.
Riot, Excefs, and Pleasure car' the Day,

And Luft (the worst of Tyrants) bears the fway,
At whofe black Throne they blind Allegiance pay.
Morofe and dull they do account the Grave;
And the meek Man, fit only for a Slave:
The Humble, of a Nature poor and bafe;
The Ghaft, fprung from a dull infipid Race;
And Temperance a Gallant's chief Difgrace.
In Virtue's Garb the great Man's Vice they drefs,
Giving it Names which found of Worthiness.
They call his Pride the Grandeur of his Mind,
And for his Luft the Name they have defign'd
Is a complaifant Air, that makes Men kind.
Profaneness is his Wit; and his Excess
By a gay janty Humour they exprefs; /
All his Debauches too must be no lefs.

Thus

Thus they lap Ruin up, and gild our Crimes;
But Vice destroys like Ivy, where it climbs.
In us, the dang'rous State th' Ambitious fee
Of Greatness, Avarice, and Flattery.

Gifts, Honors, Office, Greatnefs, Grace of Kings,
Raife the Ambitious upon Treach'rous Wings;
Till from the mighty heights they giddy grow,
And fall into the Ruin lies below.

If the first fail, which do fupport our State,
The laft our Fall ferve to precipitate.

This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Leffon, which too late was taught.
Profperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or elfe 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poifon to the Mind the fends,
And uncorrect, in fure Destruction ends;
Whilft in the way her gilded fnares fhe lays,
Eafy and credulous Man fhe foon betrays;
Who fees her Rofes and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Profperity's Repafts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholefom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Gouft which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands fqueamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which fhe's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile) bestows
Her fruitful Bleffings wherefoe'er the flows:
And if when she withdraws, ftrange Serpents rife,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo) fhe strikes dead,
By the fame Influence they firft were bred,
If the return, and fhew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.

Strongly

Strongly fupprefs'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with fublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune fmile or frown,
Whether fhe give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when the doth leave to flow,
And conftant in Inconftancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,

They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and fecur'd from all difcordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their fummits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous fhame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,

}

Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th' Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bofoms we expose,
And fing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glafs of Beer;
'Tis leaft of ufe, tho topmoft it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill A&ts fhe's grown;
It and Religion all our Mifchiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falfer Mirror fhews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rafh Heads approve what fober Men defpife,
And the fantaftick Garb offends the Wife;
She rarely now is feen, but in Difguife.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the fame;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, fhe's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.

Indiffering States, moft things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince
Cc

The

The Profperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prifoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to
Himself content, if he can wifely take, (make)
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does fome Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it felf no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by fpending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays,
At Vertue's Coaft by Travel we arrive,
And fo by Travel Vertue's kept alive.

She dwindles if the want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'ft part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Blifs that fprings from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balfam in each fhårp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
To this Retirement we can freely go;
'Tis the great'ft pace of Majefty below:
Our stirring out imports the World to know.
The Goaler's Centinel to guard our Doors,
And Castles are contain'd i'th' narrow Floors.
More happy and more safe, fecur'd from Foes,
Than those whom Troops of Enemies inclofe.

Much