I ARE these the things I sigh'd for so, before? For want of these, did I complain of Fate? It cannot be. Sure there was somewhat more That I saw then, and priz'd at a true rate; Or a strange dullness had obscur'd my sight, And even rotten wood glitters i' th' night. II Mine eyes were dim, I could no nearer get; This trash was with its most advantage plac'd: No marvel then, if all my thoughts were set On folly, since it seem'd so fairly grac'd. But now that I can see, and am got near, Ugly (as 'tis indeed) it doth appear. III Now, were I put on th' Erithrean sands, I would not stoop the choicest jew'ls to take: Should th' Indian bring me gold in fulfill'd hands, I would refuse all offers he could make. Gems are but sparkling froth, natural glass; Gold's but gilt clay, or the best sort of brass. IV Long since (for all his monarchy) that bee Which rules in a large hive, I did despise: A mole-hill's chiefest ant I laugh'd to see, But any prince of men I much did prize. The world now seems to me no bigger then Mole-hill, or hive; ants, bees, no less than men. V Who wishes then for power, or plenty craves, O let him look down on them both from hence! He'll see that kings in thrones, as well as graves, Are but poor worms, enslav'd to vilest sense: He'll find that none are poor who care for nought; But they who having much, for more have sought. VI Come, poor deluded wretch! climb up to me; My naked hermitage will teach all this: 'Twill teach thee too where truest riches be, And how to gain a never-fading bliss. 'Twill make thee see that truly none do reign, But those who serve our common sovereign. |