 | Poems and Songs |  |
61
The Happy Man.
Peaceful is he, and most secure,Whose heart, and actions all are pure;
How smooth and pleasant is his way.
Whilst Life's Meander slides away
If a fierce Thunderbolt do flie,
This Man can unconcerned lie;
Knows 'tis not levell'd at his head,
So neither noise, nor flash can dread:
Though a swift Whirlwind tear in sunder
Heav'n above him, or Earth under;
Though the Rocks on Heaps do tumble,
Or the World to Ashes crumble,
Though the stupendious Mountains from on high
Drop down, and in their humble Vallies lie;
Should the unruly Ocean roar,
And dash its Foam against the Shore;
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Fears no Billow, feels no Wind:
All is serene, and quiet there,
There's not one blast of troubled Air,
Old Stars may fall, or new ones blaze,
Yet none of these his Soul amaze;
Such is the man can smile at irksome death,
And with an easie sigh give up his breath.
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