ODE XL

1

I cannot dwell in Sorrow; neither please
My Selfe with Shadowes, though I live at Ease.
I cannot laugh away,
The trouble of the Day;
Nor yet soe much oppress my Spright
In Tears, to linger out the Night.
I cannot make my Case,
Discourse, for everie place;
Nor meerlie rest
In my owne brest,
Silent. I am not proud in Miserie;
Nor Sordid, in my Hopes uncertaintie.

2

I cannot breake into an Extasie
Of Passion, Danted with my Miserie;
Nor make my owne Cares more
Then Some have bene before;
My Sufferings are noe greater, then
The feelings of a Thousand Men,
Perhaps as Innocent.
Why then, should I lament
The pettie losse
Of goods? or drosse?
Shall these, which are but casuall, subject all
My better Treasures, to their Rise or Fall?

3

I cannot fall soe low; though I sometimes
May looke into the glasse, of these Sad Times;
And mongst those Shadowes, See
One, that resembles me,
Naked, and nere to ruine in
His Fortune; yet I cannot Sin
Soe much to Providence,
As for the pangue of Sence,
Exclaime, and rave:
Or wish the Grave
Might end him, with his Sorrowes: or invent
Fears to him, for a further punishment.

4

I cannot safelie looke, at my owne Sore,
Nor search too deepe, lest I should make it more;
Soe, the unknowing Leech
Tortures the bleeding wretch
Under his Cure. I am not blind
To my owne Danger; neither find
Soe great a Burthen, in
This miserie of mine,
But I may Stand;
And understand
It, as the Common Lot; by my owne Share
Soe prevent Fortune, ere She be aware.