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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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
47
ODE XVIII.
[Thus wee deceive our selves, and Everie Day]
1
Thus wee deceive our selves, and Everie DayCreates another hope: as wee might Say
Time is not ripe, when our Time flyes away.
2
Were but to-morrow come or next Day here,Wee should be happie; or some seaven yeare
Hence, wee'le have Peace, and dwell noe more in Feare.
3
How hardly are wee pleas'd, how less contentIn present fortunes? And wee still prevent
Our Ioyes, in Expectation of Event.
4
One Day's too long, another is too Short;Winter is Cold, Summer vnfitt for Sport;
The Spring is bitter, and the Autumne Smart.
5
But for the frost, (God knowes) what wee'd ha' done;Now wee crye out of Raine; and now the Sun
Shines too too hot, when other fault is none.
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6
What wee'd have done! if this Thing had not bene;Still one mischance or other comes betweene
Vs and our Hopes; or else, the world had seene
7
A Trophie, to convince PosteritieOf our great Diligence and Industrie;
Our Prudence, Iustice, and our Pietie.
8
But ah! wee are not happie; never sinceSome Day of ffate, (as we would make pretence)
Has the same Starre had his owne Influence.
9
Oh God! how mad are men! and I not lesseThen he the maddest; in the emptines
Of Hope I loose my Youth, I must confesse.
10
And Delatorie Causes still invent,To my owne preiudice; in the intent
I would pursue most to my owne content.
11
Else why should I, this Day, my Qvill forbeare?Noe Day noe Line; but in the Kalender
This is a Day, though shortest in the yeare.
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12
And am I therfore tyed, (because the SunIs not with vs Eight howers,) to leave vndone
The Daye's worke? for a morne or Afternoone.
13
Such students are too regular, and makeA Toyle of their Endeavours; let them take
Their nine for bed-time, and their five to wake.
14
Such method, yet I know not: though I beA-bed at Ten, I tarrie vp till three,
Next morning; then I watch as much as Hee.
15
For 'tis nor Day, nor night, nor any TimeThat can Deterre a Muse, in the sublime
Raptures of Fancie. Had I now a Rhime
16
Of worth and price; this short December Day,It would spin out, to make my Readers say,
Long Barnabie was never halfe soe Gay.
| The poems of George Daniel | |