 | Songes and Sonettes |  |
The meane estate is to be accompted the best.
Who craftly castes to stere his boateand safely skoures the flattering flood:
He cutteth not the greatest waues
for why that way were nothing good.
Ne fleteth on the crocked shore
lest harme him happe awayting lest,
But wines away betwene thē both,
as who would say the meane is best.
Who waiteth on the goldē meane,
he put in point of sickernes:
Hides not his head in sluttishe coates,
ne shroudes himself in filthines.
Ne sittes aloft in hye estate,
where hatefull hartes enuie his chance:
But wisely walkes betwixt them twaine,
ne proudly doth himself auance
The highest tree in all the woode
is rifest rent with blustring windes:
such chance haue proude and lofty mindes.
When Iupiter from hie doth threat
with mortall mace and dint of thunder
the highest hilles ben batrid eft
when they stand still that stoden vnder
The man whose head with wit is fraught
in welth will feare a worser tide
When fortune failes dispaireth nought
but constantly doth stil abide
For he that sendith grisely stormes
with whisking windes and bitter blastes
And fowlth with haile the winters face
and frotes the soile with hory frostes
Euen he adawth the force of colde
the spring in sendes with somer hote
The same full oft to stormy hartes
is cause of bale: of ioye the roote.
Not always il though so be now
when cloudes ben driuen then rides the racke
Phebus the fresh ne shoteth still
sometime he harpes his muse to wake
Stand stif therfore pluck vp thy hart
lose not thy port though fortune faile
Againe whan wind doth serue at will
take hede to hye to hoyse thy saile.
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