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He who is good is happy. Let the loudArtillery of heaven break through a cloud, And dart its thunder at him, hell remainUnmoved, and nobler comfort entertain, In welcoming the approach of death, than ViceEer found in her fictitious paradise. Time mocks our youth, and (while we number pastDelights, and raise our appetite to tasteEnsuing) brings us to unflatterd age, Where we are left to satisfy the rageOf threatning death: pomp, beauty, wealth, and allOur friendships, shrinking from the funeral. The thought of this begets that brave disdainWith which thou viewst the world, and makes those vainTreasures of fancy, serious fools so court, And sweat to purchase, thy contempt or sport. What should we covet here Why interposeA cloud twixt us and heaven Kind Nature choseMans soul the exchequer where to hoard her wealth, And lodge all her rich secrets; but by the stealthOf her own vanity, were left so poor, The creature merely sensual knows more. The learned halcyon, by her wisdom, findsA gentle season, when the seas and dsAre silenced by a calm, and then brings forthThe happy miracle of her rare birth, Leaving with der all our arts possessd, That view the architecture of her nest. Pride raiseth us bove justice. We bestocrease of knowledge on old minds, which growBy age to dotage; while the sensitivePart of the world in its first strength doth live. Folly! what dost thou in thy power containDeserves our study Merchants plough the mainAnd bring home th Indies, yet aspire to more, By avarice in the possession poor. And yet that idol wealth we all admitInto the souls great temple; busy witInvents new orgies, fancy frames new ritesTo show its superstition; anxious nightsAre watchd to its favour: while the beastContent with natures courtesy doth rest. Let man then boast no more a soul, since heHath lost that great prerogative. But thee, Whom fortune hath exempted from the herdOf vulgar men, whom virtue hath preferrdFar higher than thy birth, I must commend, Rich in the purchase of so sweet a friend. And though my fate conducts me to the shadeOf humble quiet, my ambition paidWith safe content, while a pure fameDoth raise me trophies in Castaras name;No thought of glory swelling me aboveThe hope of being famed for virtuous love;Yet wish I thee, guided by the better stars, To purchase unsafe honour in the wars, Or envied smiles at court; for thy great race, And merits, well may challenge the highest place. Yet know, what busy path soeer you treadTo greatness, you must sleep among the dead.

TO HIS NOBLEST FRIEND, J. C. , ESQ.

I hate the countrys dirt and manners, yetI love the silence; I embrace the witAnd courtship, flog here in a full tide, But loathe the expense, the vanity, and pride. No place each way is happy. Here I holdCommerce with some, who to my care unfold(After a due oath ministerd) the heightAnd greatness of each star shines in the state, The brightness, the eclipse, the influence. With others I commune, who tell me whenceThe torrent doth of foreign discord flow;Relate each skirmish, battle, overthrow, Soon as they happen; and by rote can tellThose German towns, even puzzle me to spell. The cross or prosperous fate of princes theyAscribe to rashness, cunning, or delay;And on each action comment, with more skillThan upon Livy did old Machiavel. O busy folly! why do I my brainPerplex with the dull policies of Spain, Or quick designs of France Why not repairTo the pure innocence o the country air, And neighbour thee, dear friend Who so dost giveThy thoughts to worth and virtue, that to liveBlest, is to trace thy ways. There might not weArm against passion with philosophy;And, by the aid of leisure, so controlWhateer is earth in us, to grow all soulKnowledge doth ignorance engender, whenWe study mysteries of other men, And foreign plots. Do but in thy own shad(Thy head upon some flowry pillow laid, Kind Natures housewifery, ) contemplate allHis stratagems, who labours to enthrallThe world to his great master, and youll findAmbition mocks itself, and grasps the d. Not conquest makes us great. Blood is too dearA price for glory. Honour doth appearTo statesmen like a vision in the night;And, jugglerlike, works o the deluded sight. The unbusied only wise: for no respectEndangers them to error; they affectTruth in her naked beauty, and beholdMan with an equal eye, not bright in gold, Or tall in little; so much him they weighAs virtue raiseth him above his clay. Thus let us value things: and since we findTime bend us toward death, lets in our mindCreate new youth, and arm against the rudeAssaults of age; that no dull solitudeO the country dead our thoughts, nor busy careO the town make us to think, where now we are, And whither we are bound. Time neer forgotHis journey, though his steps we numberd not.

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Still herald of the morn: whose rayBeing page and usher to the day, Doth mourn behind the sun, before him play;Who settst a golden signal ereThe dark retire, the lark appear;The early cooks cry comfort, screechowls fear;Who kst while lovers plight their troth, Then falls asleep, while they are bothTo part without a more engaging oath: Steal in a message to the eyes Of Julia; tell her that she liesToo long; thy lord, the Sun, will quickly rise. Yet it is midnight still with me;Nay, worse, unless that kinder sheSmile day, and in my zenith seated be, I needs a calenture must shun, And, like an Ethiopian, hate my sun.

Johns more celebrated namesake, Joseph, was born at Bristowe Park, parish of AshbydelaZouch, Leicestershire, in 1574. He studied andtook orders at Cambridge. He acted for some time as master of the schoolof Tiverton, in Devonshire. It is said that the accidental preaching ofa sermon before Prince Henry first attracted attention to this eminentdivine. Promotion followed with a sure and steady course. He was chosento accompany King James to Scotland as one of his chaplains, andsubsequently attended the famous Synod of Dort as a representative ofthe English Church. He had before this, while quite a young man, (in1597, ) published, under the title of Virgidemiarum, his Satires. Inthe year 1600 he produced a satirical fiction, entitled, Mundus alteret idem; in which, while pretending to describe a certain terraaustralis incognita, he hits hard at the existent evils of the actualworld.