A Collection of Miscellanies Consisting of Poems, Essays, Discourses & Letters, Occasionally Written. By John Norris ... The Second Edition Corrected |
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The Indifferency.
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 | A Collection of Miscellanies |  |
The Indifferency.
I
Whether 'tis from stupidity or no,I know not, but I ne're could find
Why I one Thought or Passion should bestow
On Fame, that gaudy Idol of mankind.
Call me not Stoick, no I can pursue
Things excellent with as much zeal as you;
But here I own my self to be
A very luke-warm Votary.
II
Should thousand excellencies in me meetAnd one bright Constellation frame,
'Tis still as men's phantastick Humours hit
Whether I'm written in the Book of Fame.
So tho the Sun be ne're so fair and bright
And shine with free, uninterrupted light,
'Tis as the Clouds disposed are,
E're he can paint his Image there.
III
The World is seldom to true merit justThrough Envy or through Ignorance.
True worth like Valour oft lies hid in dust,
While some false Hero's grac'd with a Romance.
97
When Idols have Perfumes and Sacrifice.
And tho the true one some adore
Yet those that do blaspheme are more.
IV
Yet grant that merit were of fame secure,What's Reputation, what is Praise?
Who'd one day's toil, or sleepless night endure
Such a vain Babel of esteem to raise?
Pleas'd with his hidden worth the great and wise
Can like his God this foreign good despise,
Whose Happiness would ne're be less
Tho none were made to praise or bless.
V
Even I who dare not rank my self with thoseWho pleas'd into themselves retire,
Find yet in great Applauses less repose,
And do Fame less, less than my self admire.
Let her loud Trumpet sound me far and near,
Th' Antipodes will never of me hear.
Or were I known throughout this Ball,
I've but a Point, when I have All.
VI
Then as for Glory which comes after Fate,All that can then of me be said
I value least of all, it comes too late,
'Tis like th' embalming of the sensless dead.
Others with pleasure, what me labour cost
May read, and praise, but to me all is lost.
Just as the Sun no Joy does find
In that his light which chears mankind.
98
VII
Or should I after Fate has clos'd my eyes,Should I my living Glories know,
My wiser, improv'd Soul will then despise
All that poor Mortals say or think below.
Even they who of mens ignorance before
Complain'd, because few did their works adore,
Will then the self same Censure raise
Not from their silence, but their praise.
VIII
Or grant 'twou'd pleasure bring to know that IAfter my death live still in Fame;
Those that admire me too must shortly dye,
And then where's my Memorial, where my name?
My Fame tho longer-liv'd, yet once shall have
Like me, its Death, its Funeral, its Grave.
This only difference will remain,
I shall, that never rise again.
IX
Death and Destruction shall e're long defaceThe World, the work of hands divine,
What Pillars then, or Monuments of Brass
Shall from the general ruin rescue mine?
All then shall equal be; I care not then
To be a while the talk and boast of men.
This only grant, that I may be
Prais'd by thy Angels, Lord, and thee.
| A Collection of Miscellanies | |