The Poems of John Byrom :: :: University of Virginia Library

“A verse on Patience?” Yes; but then prepare
Your Mind, Friend H---c---t, with a reading Share;
Or else 'twill give you rather less than more,
To hear it mention'd, than you had before:
If mine to write, remember, 'tis your Task
To bear the Lines which you are pleas'd to ask.

II

Patience the Theme.—A blessèd Inmate this,
The nursing Parent of our Bosom Bliss:

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Abroad for Bliss she bids us not to roam,
But cultivate is real Fund at Home,—
A noble Treasure, when the patient Soul
Sits in the Centre, and surveys the whole.

III

The bustling World, to fetch her out from thence,
Will urge the various, plausible Pretence;
Will praise Perfections of a grander Name,
Sound great Exploíts, and call her out to Fame;
Amuse and flatter, till the Soul, too prone
To Self-activity, deserts her Throne.

IV

Be on your Guard; the Bus'ness of a Man
Is, to be sure, to do what good he can,—
But first at Home: let Patience rule within,
Where Charity, you know, must first begin;
Not money'd Love is fondly understood,
But calm, sedate Propensity to Good.

V

The genuine Product of the Virtue, Friend,
Which you oblige me here to recommend;
The Trial this of all the rest beside,
For, without Patience, they are all but Pride;
A strong Ambition shines within its Sphere,
But proves its Weakness when it cannot bear.

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VI

There lies the Test; bring ev'ry thing to that;
It shows us plainly what we would be at:
Of gen'rous Actions we may count the Sum,
But scarce the Worth, till Disappointments come.
Men oft are then most gen'rously absurd:
Their own good Actions have their own bad Word.

VII

Impatience hates Ingratitude, forsooth!
Why? It discovers an ungrateful Truth:
That, having done for Interest or Fame
Such and such doings, she has lost her Aim;
While thankless People, really in her Debt,
Have all got theirs, and put her in a Fret.

VIII

Possest of Patience, a right humble Mind
At all Events is totally resign'd;
Does good for sake of good, not for th' Event,
Leaves that to Heav'n, and keeps to its Content;
Good to be done or, to be suffer'd, Ill,
It acts, it bears, with meek, submissive Will.

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IX

“Enough, enough! Now tell me, if you please,
“How is it to be had, this mental Ease?”
God knows, I do not, how it is acquir'd;
But this I know: if heartily desir'd,
We shall be thankful for the Donor's Leave
To ask, to hope, and wait till we receive.

PART II.

I

“Virtues,” you say, “by Patience must be tried;
“If that be wanting, they are all but Pride.”
“Of Rule so strict I want to have a Clue.”
Well, if you'll have the same Indulgence too,
And take a fresh Compliance in good Part,
I'll do the best I can, with all my Heart.

II

Pride is the grand Distemper of the Mind,
The Source of ev'ry Vice of ev'ry Kind.
That Love of self, wherein its Essence lies,
Gives Birth to vicious Tempers, and supplies;
We coin a world of Names for them, but still,
All comes to Fondness for our own dear Will.

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III

We see, by Facts, upon the triple Stage
Of present Life, Youth, Manhood, and old Age,
How, to be pleas'd, be honour'd, and be rich,—
These three Conditions commonly bewitch.
From young to old, if human Faults you weigh,
'Tis selfish Pride that grows from green so grey.

IV

Pride is, indeed, a more accustom'd Name
For quest of Grandeur, Eminence, or Fame;
But that of Pleasure, that of Gold betrays
What inward Principle it is that sways;
The Rake's young Dotage, and the Miser's old,
One same enslaving Love to Self unfold.

V

If Pride be thus the Fountain of all Vice;
Whence must we say that Virtue has its rise
But from Humility? and what the sure
And certain sign, that even this is pure?
For Pride itself will in its Dress appear,
When nothing touches that same Self too near.

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VI

But when provok'd, and, say, unjustly too,
Then Pride disrobes; then, what a huge ado!
Then, who can blame the Passion of a Pride,
That has got Reason, Reason of its Side?
“He's in the wrong, and I am in the right;—
Resentment, come! Humility, good Night!”

VII

Now, the Criterion, I apprehend,
On which, if any, one may best depend,
Is Patience; is the “Bear” and the “Forbear,”
To which the truly virtuous adhere;
Resolv'd to suffer, without Pro and Con,
A thousand Evils rather than do one.

VIII

Not to have Patience, and yet not be proud,
Is Contradiction not to be allow'd:
All Eyes are open to so plain a Cheat,
But of the blinded by the Self-deceit;
Who, with a like Consistency, may tell
That nothing ails them, tho' they are not well.

IX

Strict is the Rule, but, notwithstanding, true,
However I fall short of it, or you:

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Best to increase our Stock, if it be small,
By dealing in it with our Neighbours all;
And then, who knows but we shall, in the End,
Learn to have Patience with ourselves,—and mend?