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Pierides

or The Muses Mount. By Hugh Crompton
  

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22. The Soliloquy.
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33

22. The Soliloquy.

1

I have no riches, neither know
I where the Mines of Silver grow;
The golden age I cannot find,
Yet there is plenty in my mind.
'Tis wealth I crave, 'tis wealth that I require;
Yet there's no wealth to fill my vain desire;
Nor hopes thereof to still my craving lyte.

2

What shall I do in such a case?
I am accounted mean and base.
Both friends and strangers frown on me,
'Cause I am gaul'd with poverty.
Well, let them frown, yet I will not lament,
Nor value them, though fortune has not lent
To me her blessings, yet I have content!

3

Alas poor plant of low esteem,
How base of thee the world doth deem?
I'me but an object, could my name
But once procure the wings of fame;
Then like Apollo, glittering in the skies
I'de ride triumphant, and I'de tympanise,
Daring the apples of all humane eyes.

4

I, but I am not so sublime
In parts and merits, as to clime
Into the high terrestrial story

34

Of fame, triumph, renown, and glory:
Yet my content shall vanquish my disease.
Perhaps if I should climb such stairs as these,
(Like Icarus) I might salute the Seas.

5

For glory has but waxen wings;
It's like the voice of one that sings
A Prick-song ditty, now he yauls
With mounted voice, and then he falls:
So falls our fame, for censure will exile it,
And ill look't Envy quickly discompile it:
The least disaster may at last defile it.

6

I but poor worm, diseases pierce
The thin and slender universe
Of my poor flesh, weak flesh, yet I
Can find no help nor remedy;
But yet I care not, there's a healthful wind.
Survey Philosophy, and you shall find,
Sick flesh is better then a sickly mind.

7

Then farewel care for carnal wealth,
For worldly fame, and fleshly health:
Il'e use no Doctor, while I find
A wholsome temper in my mind.
I will not grieve, no fate shall make me vary
Both cross and loss shall be no adversary,
Il'e wash down all with glasses of Canary.