Anonymous

HAPPY he

Who, to sweet home retired,

Shuns glory so admired;

And to himself lives free!

Whilst he who strives, with pride, to climb the skies,

Falls down, with foul disgrace, before he rise!

Let who will

The Active Life commend;

And all his travails bend

Earth with his fame to fill!

Such fame, so forced, at last dies with his death;

Which life maintained by others’ idle breath!

My delights

To dearest home confined,

Shall there make good my mind;

Not awed with Fortune’s spites!

High trees, heaven blasts! Winds shake and honours fell;

When lowly plants, long time in safety dwell.

All I can,

My worldly strife shall be,

They, one day, say of me,

‘He died a good old man!’

On his sad soul a heavy burden lies,

Who, known to all, unknown to himself, dies!