Dame Nature doubtless has designed Now taste and try this temper, sirs, That man does right to mar his rest, I am content, I do not care! John Byrom [1692-1763] THE GOLDEN MEAN * RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach, Of adverse Fortune's power; He that holds fast the golden mean, The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, The tallest pines feel most the power Comes heaviest to the ground; The bolts, that spare the mountain's side, His cloud-capped eminence divide, And spread the ruin round. The well-informed philosopher Rejoices with a wholesome fear, *For the original of this poem see page 3579. And hopes, in spite of pain; If Winter bellow from the north, Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth, What if thine heaven be overcast? The dark appearance will not last; The God, that strings the silver bow, If hindrances obstruct thy way, And let thy strength be seen; But O! if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvas in. After Horace, by William Cowper [1731-1800] "ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW" CONFIDE ye aye in Providence, For Providence is kind: An' bear ye a' life's changes Wi' a calm an' tranquil mind. Though pressed and hemmed on every side, For ilka blade o' grass Keeps its ain drap o' dew. Gin reft frae friends, or crossed in love, There's good in store for you; For ilka blade o' grass Keeps its ain drap o' dew. In lang, lang days o' simmer, When the clear and cloudless sky To nature, parched and dry, An' ilka blade o' grass Keeps its ain drap o' dew. Sae lest 'mid fortune's sunshine We should feel owre proud an' hie, An' in our pride forget to wipe The tear frae poortith's e'e, Some wee dark clouds o' sorrow come, We ken na whence nor hoo; But ilka blade o' grass Keeps its ain drap o' dew. James Ballantine [1808–1877] RESIGNATION WHY, why repine, my pensive friend, I see the rainbow in the sky, With folded arms I linger not To call them back; 'twere vain: Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] WHICHEVER way the wind doth blow, Some heart is glad to have it so; Then blow it east or blow it west, The wind that blows, that wind is best. My little craft sails not alone: And so I do not care to pray Who launched my bark will sail with me To land me, every peril past, Within his sheltering haven at last. Then, whatsoever wind doth blow, My heart is glad to have it so; The wind that blows, that wind is best. Caroline Atwater Mason [1853 THE HAPPIEST HEART WHO drives the horses of the sun Shall lord it but a day; Better the lowly deed were done, And kept the humble way. The rust will find the sword of fame, The dust will hide the crown; Ay, none shall nail so high his name Time will not tear it down. The happiest heart that ever beat Was in some quiet breast That found the common daylight sweet, And left to Heaven the rest. John Vance Cheney [1848– GOOD-BYE GOOD-BYE, proud world! I'm going home: Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. Long I've been tossed like the driven foam; Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; I am going to my own hearth-stone, And vulgar feet have never trod— O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; SAPIENTIA LUNÆ THE Wisdom of the world said unto me: "As tarrieth," I said, "for sure, the grave." |