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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III, IV. |
The poems of George Daniel | ||
134
[Portrait of the Author.]
------ nobis placeant, ante omnia Silva.
Wee
are deceived, and Francie is not fitt
To frame a happines, nor humane witt
To Iudge at all. You looke vpon Mee now
Retired and Calme, and thinke (perhaps) I doe
Enioy all you Imagine; that I, here,
Nothing of Earth doe hope, & much lesse feare:
That Noise and Busines doe not press vpon
My thoughts; but thus composed, I'me All my own;
That I Philosophise, or Something higher,
Which Wise men Envie, and which fooles admire;
And Scorne, or Pitty, Equall Natures, who
Run the tumultuous Gire of humane woe.
To frame a happines, nor humane witt
To Iudge at all. You looke vpon Mee now
Retired and Calme, and thinke (perhaps) I doe
Enioy all you Imagine; that I, here,
Nothing of Earth doe hope, & much lesse feare:
That Noise and Busines doe not press vpon
My thoughts; but thus composed, I'me All my own;
That I Philosophise, or Something higher,
Which Wise men Envie, and which fooles admire;
And Scorne, or Pitty, Equall Natures, who
Run the tumultuous Gire of humane woe.
I must be free; that Shade has nought of Coole,
Nor the Ayre pleasure, to a greivéd Soule;
The purling Streame, wch: you imagine may
Wash my Feet, cannot wash my Cares away;
My mantle is not weather-proofe; yet farre
Safer than my owne Resolutions are.
All the varietie of this Retire
Is nothing to vnsatisfyed Desire.
Something wee would arrive at; but wee All
Trifle in Dust to Dotage; and but call
Things by the Name our Fancie makes appeare;
Which if it be Soe, I am HAPPYE here.
Nor the Ayre pleasure, to a greivéd Soule;
The purling Streame, wch: you imagine may
Wash my Feet, cannot wash my Cares away;
My mantle is not weather-proofe; yet farre
Safer than my owne Resolutions are.
All the varietie of this Retire
Is nothing to vnsatisfyed Desire.
Something wee would arrive at; but wee All
Trifle in Dust to Dotage; and but call
Things by the Name our Fancie makes appeare;
Which if it be Soe, I am HAPPYE here.
The poems of George Daniel | ||