Cowley's Essays [33]
store, The old plain way, ye gods! let me be poor.
A PARAPHRASE ON AN ODE IN HORACE'S THIRD BOOK, BEGINNING THUS:- "Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea."
A tower of brass, one would have said, And locks, and bolts, and iron bars, And guards as strict as in the heat of wars Might have preserved one innocent maidenhood. The jealous father thought he well might spare All further jealous care; And as he walked, to himself alone he smiled To think how Venus' arts he had beguiled; And when he slept his rest was deep, But Venus laughed to see and hear him sleep. She taught the amorous Jove A magical receipt in love, Which armed him stronger and which helped him more Than all his thunder did and his almightyship before.
II.
She taught him love's elixir, by which art His godhead into gold he did convert; No guards did then his passage stay, He passed with ease, gold was the word; Subtle as lightning, bright, and quick, and fierce, Gold through doors and walls did pierce; And as that works sometimes upon the sword, Melted the maiden dread away, Even in the secret scabbard where it lay. The prudent Macedonian king, To blow up towns, a golden mine did spring; He broke through gates with this petar, 'Tis the great art of peace, the engine 'tis of war, And fleets and armies follow it afar; The ensign 'tis at land, and 'tis the seaman's scar.
III.
Let all the world slave to this tyrant be, Creature to this disguised deity, Yet it shall never conquer me. A guard of virtues will not let it pass, And wisdom is a tower of stronger brass. The muses' laurel, round my temples spread, Does from this lightning's force secure my head, Nor will I lift it up so high, As in the violent meteor's way to lie. Wealth for its power do we honour and adore? The things we hate, ill fate, and death, have more.
IV.
From towns and courts, camps of the rich and great, The vast Xerxean army, I retreat, And to the small Laconic forces fly Which hold the straits of poverty. Cellars and granaries in vain we fill With all the bounteous summer's store: If the mind thirst and hunger still, The poor rich man's emphatically poor. Slaves to the things we too much prize, We masters grow of all that we despise.
V.
A field of corn, a fountain, and a wood, Is all the wealth by nature understood. The monarch on whom fertile Nile bestows All which that grateful earth can bear, Deceives himself, if he suppose That more than this falls to his share. Whatever an estate does beyond this afford, Is not a rent paid to the Lord; But is a tax illegal and unjust, Exacted from it by the tyrant lust. Much will always wanting be, To him who much desires. Thrice happy he To whom the wise indulgency of Heaven, With sparing hand but just enough has given.
THE DANGERS OF AN HONEST MAN IN MUCH COMPANY.
If twenty thousand naked Americans were not able to resist the assaults of but twenty well-armed Spaniards, I see little possibility for one honest man to defend himself against twenty thousand knaves, who are all furnished cap-a-pie with the defensive arms of worldly prudence, and the offensive, too, of craft and malice. He will find no less odds than this against him if he have much to do in human affairs. The only advice, therefore, which I can give him is, to be sure not to venture his person any longer in the open campaign, to retreat and entrench himself, to stop up all avenues, and draw up all bridges against so numerous an enemy. The truth of it is, that a man in much business must either make himself a knave, or else the world will make him a fool: and if the injury went no farther than the being laughed at, a wise man would content himself with the revenge of retaliation: but the case is much worse, for these civil cannibals too, as well as the wild ones, not only dance about such a taken stranger, but at last devour him. A sober man cannot get too soon out of drunken company; though they be never so kind and merry among themselves, it
A PARAPHRASE ON AN ODE IN HORACE'S THIRD BOOK, BEGINNING THUS:- "Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea."
A tower of brass, one would have said, And locks, and bolts, and iron bars, And guards as strict as in the heat of wars Might have preserved one innocent maidenhood. The jealous father thought he well might spare All further jealous care; And as he walked, to himself alone he smiled To think how Venus' arts he had beguiled; And when he slept his rest was deep, But Venus laughed to see and hear him sleep. She taught the amorous Jove A magical receipt in love, Which armed him stronger and which helped him more Than all his thunder did and his almightyship before.
II.
She taught him love's elixir, by which art His godhead into gold he did convert; No guards did then his passage stay, He passed with ease, gold was the word; Subtle as lightning, bright, and quick, and fierce, Gold through doors and walls did pierce; And as that works sometimes upon the sword, Melted the maiden dread away, Even in the secret scabbard where it lay. The prudent Macedonian king, To blow up towns, a golden mine did spring; He broke through gates with this petar, 'Tis the great art of peace, the engine 'tis of war, And fleets and armies follow it afar; The ensign 'tis at land, and 'tis the seaman's scar.
III.
Let all the world slave to this tyrant be, Creature to this disguised deity, Yet it shall never conquer me. A guard of virtues will not let it pass, And wisdom is a tower of stronger brass. The muses' laurel, round my temples spread, Does from this lightning's force secure my head, Nor will I lift it up so high, As in the violent meteor's way to lie. Wealth for its power do we honour and adore? The things we hate, ill fate, and death, have more.
IV.
From towns and courts, camps of the rich and great, The vast Xerxean army, I retreat, And to the small Laconic forces fly Which hold the straits of poverty. Cellars and granaries in vain we fill With all the bounteous summer's store: If the mind thirst and hunger still, The poor rich man's emphatically poor. Slaves to the things we too much prize, We masters grow of all that we despise.
V.
A field of corn, a fountain, and a wood, Is all the wealth by nature understood. The monarch on whom fertile Nile bestows All which that grateful earth can bear, Deceives himself, if he suppose That more than this falls to his share. Whatever an estate does beyond this afford, Is not a rent paid to the Lord; But is a tax illegal and unjust, Exacted from it by the tyrant lust. Much will always wanting be, To him who much desires. Thrice happy he To whom the wise indulgency of Heaven, With sparing hand but just enough has given.
THE DANGERS OF AN HONEST MAN IN MUCH COMPANY.
If twenty thousand naked Americans were not able to resist the assaults of but twenty well-armed Spaniards, I see little possibility for one honest man to defend himself against twenty thousand knaves, who are all furnished cap-a-pie with the defensive arms of worldly prudence, and the offensive, too, of craft and malice. He will find no less odds than this against him if he have much to do in human affairs. The only advice, therefore, which I can give him is, to be sure not to venture his person any longer in the open campaign, to retreat and entrench himself, to stop up all avenues, and draw up all bridges against so numerous an enemy. The truth of it is, that a man in much business must either make himself a knave, or else the world will make him a fool: and if the injury went no farther than the being laughed at, a wise man would content himself with the revenge of retaliation: but the case is much worse, for these civil cannibals too, as well as the wild ones, not only dance about such a taken stranger, but at last devour him. A sober man cannot get too soon out of drunken company; though they be never so kind and merry among themselves, it