The History of Polindor and Flostella :: :: University of Virginia Library

There is a precious thing whom we all bless
As Gem of Heaven, intitled Happiness;
For which the pin'd World plods and sweats, approves
From Towers to Thatch, from Silks to Leather Loves;
The gen'rall thirst and hunger onely this,
To frail Humanity prime Minion 'tis:
But most, how blindly hurry to th' wrong School
T'instruct them in't! their Tutor is most Fool.
Reason disclaim'd, Sence, Fancy proves their Guide;
Thus those deluded Pilgrims travell wide,
But ne'r enjoy, becomming still worse strayes,
In that their Magick-strow'd, unlucky Maze.
He, Honours Blazes, Popular breath's ayre
Hunts after; wanton Venus Breasts (made bare)
Th' Other admires, how Courts; with stallion-heat
Neighing after th' flesh: That, studies how to Eate,
Carouse to pleasure, Lauds his various mess;
Whose Hell-deep Gorge, tooth's nicety to please,
That Elementall store-house wanteth food;
Th' whole Globes a thin starv'd market: ther's his Good.
Th' fourth hugs his Mint, gay mettall does adore:
Th' fifth Horses, Hounds (keen sports-man) loves, playes o're
His life just like a Game; whilst Lazyer He
Sits yauning, looks about, an Idlesby.
All these Graspe ayery Blisses, bitter sweets;
Tarant'la-stung, but dye 'midst laughing fits;
Since onely Virtue (Heavens choyce Off-spring known,
Frail Earths best seasoning sweet, life's life alone)
This Soules Elixar, tenfold Indies weares,
And on her Votaries as Gift confers:
In Her stor'd All. Sublim'd this Virtue growes
Through Learning, arts; What's well, that former shows,
And yeilds both Comfort, Peace of a Good Action;
The nobler souls prime glory, and satisfaction:
Th' other gives Knowledge, unlocks to thine eye
Nature with each her richest Mystery
Infuse but Third to these, the Moderate mind
(Though shadow-like with virtue 't seems combin'd)
Who seeks but what's Enough, and there behold
That Happy man, great Lord oth' Western Gold

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(If He'l but think so) Prince of this vast Round,
This Medley of Sea and Land, by himself Crown'd.
Nor can his starvling-Fortunes miserable
Make him or wretch'd, if to subsist but able,
T'uphold a Being, and worst Poverty
May Natures low Ambition satisfie.
Thus he enjoyes himself still, is the same,
Though's Changling Fortun's turn'd; nor finds a shame
In being Poor, or's heard to rayl upon
His Stars for their extortion; stands alone,
Like unmov'd Rock, the battering Wind and Wave,
Mocking their cholerick Frensies; bids 'em rave.
Sucks as sweet pleasing Ayre, talks, eats, and sleeps
As hearty as ever, whilst his Curtain keeps
Forth Care with Day: Good Bedfellow, as kind,
Soft, Down-support, does still his Pillow find.
And as friends flinch away, but laughs to see
Th' odd humour of the Age, how Poverty
Is left alone, save of her own lean Crew;
The Worlds grown Coy, known Face, strangers shew
And look on him A-squint, whilst cheerfull he
Finds from within the sweetest Company;
Can hug himself: That base Tribe pittying still.
And if his burlyer fortunes claim the style
Of Plump Prosperity, if now he showes
Some-body in the World, how kindly flowes
The late ebbing Rout, what Hails and Visits then!
Both make him Mirth, he's now belov'd agen.