A SONG by JOHN BYROM

WHY, prithee now, what does it signify
For to bustle and make such a rout?
It is virtue alone that can dignify,
Whether clothed in ermine or clout.
Come, come, and maintain thy discretion;
Let it act a more generous part;
For I find by thy honest confession,
That the world has too much of thy heart.

Beware that its fatal ascendancy
Do not tempt thee to mope and repine;
With a humble and hopeful dependency
Still await the good pleasure divine.
Success in a higher beatitude
Is the end of what's under the pole;
A philosopher takes it with gratitude,
And believes it is best on the whole.

The world is a scene, thou art sensible,
Upon which, if we do but our best,
On a wisdom that's incomprehensible
We may safely rely for the rest.
Then trust to its kind distribution,
And however things happen to fall,
Prithee, pluck up a good resolution
To be cheerful and thankful for all.

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