 | Trivial poems |  |
Seruire Deo, Regnare est.
1
Are these the things I sigh'd for soe, before?For want of these, did I complayne of Fate?
Itt cannot bee. Sure there was somewhat more
That I saw then, and priz'd att a true rate;
Or a strange dullnesse had obscur'd my sight,
And euen rotten wood glitters i'th' night.
2
Mine eyes were dimme, I could noe nearer gett;This trash was with itt's most aduantage plac'd:
Noe meruayle then, if all my thoughts were sett
On folly, since itt seem'd soe fayrely grac'd.
But now that I can see, and am gott neare,
Ugly (as 'tis indeed) itt doth appeare.
3
Now, were I putt on th'Erithrean sands,I would not stoope the choycest jew'les to take:
Should th'Indian bring me gold in full-fill'd hands,
I would refuse all offers hee could make,
46
Gold's but guilt clay, or the best sort of brasse.
4
Long since (for all his monarchy) that beeWhich rules in a large hiue, I did dispize:
A mole-hill's chiefest ant I laugh'd to see,
But any prince of men I much did prize.
The world now seemes to mee noe bigger then
Mole-hill, or hiue; ants, bees, noe lesse then men.
5
Who wishes then for power, or plenty craues,O lett him looke downe on them both from hence!
Hee'l see that kings in thrones, as well as graues
Are but poore wormes, enslau'd to uilest sence:
Hee'l find that none are poore who care for nought;
But they who hauing much, for more haue sought.
6
Come, poore deluded wretch! climbe up to mee;My naked hermitage will teach all this:
'Twill teach thee too where truest riches bee,
And how to gayne a neuer-fading blisse.
'Twill make thee see that truely none doe raigne,
But those who serue our common souuerayne.
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