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The poems of George Daniel

... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes

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66

ODE XXVIII.

[What a Strange Thing is Man!]

1

What a Strange Thing is Man!
How weake in his Designe,
His Wisedome! For I can
See others now in mine;
How Dull! how lost!
To what he Studied most.

2

Wee cannot looke vpon
Our inwarde selves, but find
Man generall; for one
Is all and everie Mind,
In some Degree;
Seeing our Selves, wee others see.

3

The same our Common Cares;
Our Passions are alike;
Our causeles Hopes and Fears
At the same obiects strike;
And all our Store
Of Follies, less or more.

4

Our Frailties, our desires,
Our Policies, our Plots,

67

Are fed from Common Fires:
Not wisedome, in her knots,
But cunning hands,
May, by his owne, loose others' bands.

5

This Image. which wee reare
Vnto our Selves, is not
Soe radiant and Clear
As wee suppose; the lot
Is free to All:
And diverse things, by the same name, we call.