The poor man rejoiceth at his toil, and his daily bread is sweet to him: Content with present good, he looketh not for evil to the future: The rich man languisheth with sloth, and findeth pleasure in nothing, He locketh up care with his gold, and feareth the fickleness of fortune Can a cup contain within itself the measure of a bucket? Or the straitened appetites of man drink more than their fill of luxury ♦ There is a limit to enjoyment, though the sources of wealth be boundle And the choicest pleasures of life lie within the ring of moderation. Also though penury and pain be real and bitter evils, I would reason with the poor afflicted, for he is not so wretched as he seemeth. What right hath an offender to complain, though, others escape purashment, If the stripes of earned misfortune overtake him in his sin? Wherefore not endure with resignation the evils thou canst not avert? For the coward pain will flee, if thou meet him as a man: Consider, whatever be thy fate, that it might and ought to have been worse, Need hope, and patience, and courage, be strangers to the meanest hovel? And these be as precious ore, that waiteth the skill of the coiner: hardly, And now thou hast drained the bitter, take heed that thou lose not the sweet. Power is seldom innocent, and envy is the yoke-fellow of eminence; The poor man counteth not the cost at which such wealth hath been pur chased; He would be on the mountain's top without the toil and travail of the climbing. But equity demanden recompense; for high-place, calumny and care; For state, comfortless splendour eating out the heart of home; For warrior fame, dangers and death; for a name among the learned, a spirit overstrained; For honour of all kinds, the goad of ambition; on every acquirement, the tax of anxiety. He that would change with another, must take the cup as it is mixeu: For so hath Providence determined, that a man shall not easily discover A bold man or a fool must he be, who would change his lot with another; It were a fearful bargain, and mercy hath lovingly refused it; For we know the worst of ourselves, but the secrets of another we see not And better is certain bad, than the doubt and dread of worse. Just, and strong, and opportune is the moral rule of God; Ripe in its times, firm in its judgments, equal in the measure of its gifts; Nor heed the compensating peace which gladdeneth the good in his afflictions Moreover, a moral compensation reacheth to the secrecy of thought; For if thou wilt think evil of thy neighbour, soon shalt thou have him for thy foe And yet he may know nothing of the cause that maketh thee distasteful to his soul, The cause of unkind suspicion, for which thou hast thy punishment: By luxury, or rashness, or vice, the member that hath erred suffereth, Alike to the slave and his oppressor cometh night with sweet refreshment, And half of the life of the most wretched is gladdened by the soothings if sleep. Pain addeth zest unto pleasure, and teacheth the luxury of health: For, habit, and hope, and ignorance, and the being but one of a multitude Angelic aid with worldly discomfiture, bodily loss with the soul's gain, OF INDIRECT INFLUENCES. FACE thy foe in the field, and perchance thou wilt meet thy master, harness, And the crest of his pride will be humbled, his cruelty will bite the dust So shalt thou conquer the strong, thyself triumphing in weakness. The weakness of accident is strong, where the strength of design is weak⚫ reason. Contend not in wisdom with a fool, for thy sense maketh much of his conceit; And some errors never would have thriven, had it not been for learned refutation; Yea, much evil hath been caused by an honest wrestler for truth, Hints, shrewdly strown, mightily disturb the spirit, Where a barefaced accusation would be too ridiculous for calumny: The sly suggestion towcheth nerves, and nerves contract the fronds, And friendships, the growth of half a century, those oaks that laugh at storius, Have been cankered in a night by a worm, even as the prophet's gourd. Hast thou loved, and not known jealousy? for a sidelong look Can please or pain thy heart more than the multitude of proofs: Hast thou hated, and not learned that thy silent scorn Doth deeper aggravate thy foe than loud-cursing malice?— A wise wise man prevaileth in power, for he screeneth his battering engine But a fool tilteth headlong, and his adversary is aware. Behold those broken arches, that oriel all unglazed, That crippled line of columns bleaching in the sun, [dly stretching forth to hold up tufted ivy: Thinkest thou the thousand eyes that shine with rapture on a ruin, And wherefore not—but that light hints, suggesting unseen beauties And so, the rapid sketch winneth more praise to the painter, And so, the Helvetic lion caverned in the living rock Hath more of majesty and force, than if upon a marble pedestal. Tell me, daughter of taste, what hath charmed thine ear in music? Nor rather the sparkles of intelligence flashing from some strange note Tell me, thou son of science, what hath filled thy mind in reading? Is it the volume of detail where all is orderly set down, And they that read may run, nor need to stop and think; The book carefully accurate, that counteth thee no better than a fool, Nor rather the half-suggested thoughts, the riddles thou mayest solve, The confidence implied in thy skill to unravel meaning mysteries? And thought, wherein only is power, may be best conveyed by a suggestion A worldly man boasteth in his pride that there is no power but of money: And he judgeth the characters of men by the differing measures of their means: |