Solomon's recantation :: :: University of Virginia Library

Like things happen to Good and Bad. There is a Necessity of Death unto Men. Comfort is all their Portion in this Life. God's Providence ruleth over all. Wisdom is better than Strength.

All this I ponder'd, and at length I found
All Actions, whether just or wise, are crown'd
By secret Providence: And no Man knows
God's Love or Hate, by Blessings or by Blows.
All haps alike to all; the same Things do
Befal the Righteous and th'Unrighteous too.
Th'Unclean, and Clean, have here the self-same Pay;
And he that prays, and he that doth not pray:
Alike befals to Good and Bad, and both
To him that swears, and him that fears an Oath:
It is a Grief that grates beneath the Sun,
That like Events betide to every one;
Which makes the desp'rate Hearts of Men to rave
With Mischief, till they drop into the Grave.
For the Ambition of their Hopes extend
But to this Life, and with this Life they end:
Better to be a living Dog (they plead)
Than to be knowm a Lyon that is dead:
For they that live, know well that they shall die,
And therefore take their Time; but they that lie
Rak'd up in Death's cold Embers, they know not
Or Good or Ill: their Names are quite forgot:
They have no Friends to love, no Foes to hate;
They know no Virtue to spit Venom at;
They sell no Sweat for Gains, nor do they buy
Pleasure with Pains, or trade beneath the Skie:

Go then, rejoice, and eat: Let a full Bowle
Casheire thy Cares, and chear thy frolick Soul;
What Heaven hath lent thee with a liberal Hand,
To serve, and cheer thy Frailty up, command.
Indulge thy careful Flesh with new Supply,
And Change of Garments of the purest Dye;
Refresh thy Limbs, annoy'd with Sweat and Toyl,
With costly Baths, thy Head with precious Oil.
Delight thy self in thy delicious Wife
All the vain Days of thy vain wasting Life;
Of all the Works thy painful Hand hath done,
This, this is all the Price beneath the Sun.
What e'er thy Hand endeavours, that may gain
Contentment, spare not either Cost or Pain;
For there's no Hand to work, no Pow'r to have,
No Wisdom to contrive within the Grave.
I find the Swift not always win the Prize,
Nor Strength of Arm the Battle, nor the wise
Grow rich in Fortunes, nor the Men of Skill
In Favour; all as Time and Fortune will.
Man knoweth not his Time; as Fishes are
Snar'd in the Net, Birds tangled in the Snare;
So be the Sons of Men surpriz'd with Snares,
When Mischief falls upon them unawares.
This Wisdom have I seen beneath the Skie,
Which wisely weigh'd, deserves a wise Man's Eye.
There was a little City poorly man'd,
'Gainst which a potent King brought up a Band
Of martial Strength, besieg'd it, and withal
Built mighty Bulwarks 'gainst her slender Wall;
In this half conquer'd City there was found
A poor wise Man, whose Wisdom did confound
Both them and all the Works their Strength could plant;
Yet no Reward reliev'd this poor Man's Want.
O then (thought I) poor Wisdom will at length
Discover greater Worth than golden Strength;
Yet is the poor Man's Wisdom poorly priz'd,
His Word's not heard, or being heard, dispis'd:

The whispering wise Man's Tongue prevaileth more,
Than when the Lips of foolish Rulers roar:
Prudent Advice is more transcendent far,
Than Strength of Arm, or Instruments of War:
But rash Attempts of a misguided Hand
Defeat themselves, and ruin all the Land.

SOLILOQUY. IX.

But ah, my Soul, what boots it to be wise?
Or what Advantage? what great Profit lies
In a fair Journey? to be well supply'd
With all Accoutrements, a knowing Guide,
A mettled Steed, a sweet and temperate Skie,
Short Miles, and way-beguiling Company;
When armed Death stands ready to attend
Thy parting Stirrup at thy Journey's End?
Thy Wisdom cannot save thee; has no Power
To keep thee Shot-free, or to quit that Hour.
Dull Nabal's Hour-glass runs as slow a Pace
As active Solomon's: An equal Space
Divides their Minutes; Death's impartial Hand
Wounds all alike, and Death will give no Sand.

What then my Soul? If Wisdom should entail
Our Happiness on this Life, or fill our Sail
In this wild Ocean with perpetual Breath,
When should we find a Hav'n? If partial Death
Should favour Wisdom, and not exercise
Her Office there, 'twere Misery to be wise:
The prudent Pilot, whose marinal Skill
Makes the proud Winds obedient to his Will,
And ploughs the Billows with less Fear than wrong,
Takes no Delight to make his Voyage long;
But with his wise Endeavours seeks to guide
His slender Pinnace, and to curb the Pride

Of the rebellious Waves, and doth address
His Care to crown his Voyage with Success.

Our Life's the Voyage, and this World the Ocean;
Our Cares are Waves tost in continual motion;
Our Thoughts are busie Winds, that often blow
Too strong a Gale, and tosses too and fro
Our crazy Vessels: Every Soul does bear
The Office of a Pilot, now to steer,
Now to advise; and still to lay Commands
Upon th'Affection-Sailers, whose rude Hands
Are always active, ready to fulfil
The wise Directions of the Pilot's Will.

It matters not, my Soul, how long or short
Thy Voyage be, if safe; they gain the Port
With best Advantage, that in peace arrive
With Ribs unshook, and all their Men alive.
It lies not in the skilful Pilot's Power
T'avoid tempestuous Seas, but to endure;
'Tis Wisdom to endure, as well as do;
Who bravely suffers, is victorious too.

Then chear, my Soul; let not the Frowns of Earth
Disturb thy Peace, or interrupt thy Mirth:
Let not that rude, that Apogean Storm
Of Flesh and Blood dismay thee, or deform
The Beauty of thy Thoughts, or cast thy Mind
Into a base Despondence: Let the Wind
Blow where it please, a well-prepared Breast
Will give thee Shelter, and afford thee Rest.

When wordly Crosses tempt thee, understand
Heav'n tries thy Temper then; if then thou stand
Upright in Court, and of unshaken Mind,
The Test approves thee, and thou art refin'd.

Then chear, my Soul; let not the Rubs of Earth
Disturb thy Peace, or interrupt thy Mirth;
If Heav'n hath crown'd thy Labours with Success,
Enjoy it freely; eat and drink, and bless
The gracious Giver: Let thy Soul rejoice
And take a cheerful Pleasure in the Choice

Of all Delights; and what his Bounty gave
With a free Hand, fear not thou to receive
With a free Heart: Refresh thy fainting Head
With precious Oils, and change thy careful Bread
To Feasts of Joy; or if a Cross should greet
Thy frolick Soul, march bravely on, and meet
Adversity half way; and with a Heart
Too great for Earth to wrong, shake Hands and part:

Chear then my Soul; let not the Rubs of Earth
Disturb thy Peace, or interrupt thy Mirth:
Go, sweeten up thy Labours and thy Life
With fresh Delights: Rejoice thee in the Wife
And Partner of thy Bosom; let her Breast
Suffice thee as the Centre of thy Rest:
Deny thy Heart no Pleasure, that may lie
Within the lawful Limits of thine Eye:
Take Time while Time shall serve; to morrow may
Be none of ours; come, come, be wise to day;
And teach thy Labours to bestow their Sorrow
On those that practise to be Fools to morrow.