The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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Freedome.
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
99
Freedome.
I blesse my Starrs, I am vnfitt for noise;And busines allmost shuns me, to my Choice;
I sitt retir'd, while other men are high
In State-Employments; 'tis a peircing Eye
Sees thorough Men, to dispositions;
And sorts fitt Agents to Occasions.
This with its Spectacles, Authoritie
Can Cull 'em by the head; and why should I
Repine? I glorie rather, and can Sitt,
T' emprove by them, what may be Iust, or fitt.
I'me happie, I'me exempt; that I may play
With my owne thoughts, vnvext, my howers away.
I am not in Commission of the Peace;
Noe Constable, the greater, nor the lesse;
I'de nothing Glorie, if I had ben made
Poll' gatherer of the Groats; I should evade,
Truly, to be a Parish warden; or
A domineering Elder, with the power
Our well-affected Parliament can give.
Fitt Men shall have Emploiment fitt. I live
Obscure; Blood, Tears, nor oppression
Burden my Soule; my Gvilt is but my owne;
100
Sin of Participation in the Case.
I'me as I am, Content; and free, to pittie
The faction of the Countrie, Fraud o'the Cittie.
Sometime I'le take my Stone-bow or my Gun,
With my true Servant, readie still to run,
And fetch the Qvarrie from the Brooke or Bush,—
The Mallard, Teale, the Sparrow, or the Thrush.
With these innocuous pleasures (I can rest
In my selfe quiet; and display the brest
Of all my Crime, vnto my selfe); Wee live
Gviltye, I hope of lesser Sins. I strive
Not now t' exaggerate others Crimes, nor here
To make our owne lesse then in Truth they are;
This, if the rigour of the times allow
I am content; if they will not, I know
A pleasure, 'bove their Malice; and the close
Barrs of a prison, cannot hinder those
My owne free thoughts; where I some time may have
A visit from the Muses, which shall save
My Name from Envie and oblivion.
Soe being lest my selfe, I'me most my owne;
And what, by them, was put, as a restraint,
Is by my patience, turned t' a Complement.
| The poems of George Daniel | |