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Thou hast no porter at the door
He shall not dread Misfortune's angry mien,
Nor feebly sink beneath her tempest rude, Whose soul hath learned, through many a trying scene,
To smile at fate, and suffer unsubdued.
In the rough school of billows, clouds, and storms,
Nursed and matured, the pilot learns his art : Thus Fate's dread ire, by many a conflict, forms
The lofty spirit, and enduring heart.
Follow me, as I sing
Under the shady roof
Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more By sandy Ladon’s lilied banks ; On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar,
Trip no more in twilight ranks; Though Erymanth your loss deplore,
A better soil shall give ye thanks.
Such a rural queen
His cottage low, and safely humble gate,
No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep:
Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep ; Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep.
No Serian worms 3 he knows, that with their thread Draw out their silken lives :- nor silken pride!
His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need, Not in that proud Sidonian 4 tincture dy'd :
No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright;
Nor begging wants his middle fortune bite ; But sweet content exiles both misery and spite.
His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets and rich content:
The smooth-leav'd beeches in the field receive him With coolest shades, till noon-tide's rage is spent :
His life is neither tost in boist'rous seas
Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease; Pleas'd and full blest he lives, when he his God can please.
| Pawns, the lowest in rank; the least valuable of chess-men are called pawns.
2 Fawns, fawnings, flatteries.
3 Serian worms ; silk - worms, originally brought from the country of the Seres, or northern Chinese.
4 Sidoniun, purple: the finest purple dye known to the ancients was obtained from a shell-fish found on the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. The colour is more frequently called Tyrian than Sidonian.
Ode on the Creation.
The spacious firmament on high,
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
What though in solemn silence all
Paraphrase on Psalm XXIII.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Though in the paths of death I tread,
Though in a bare and rugged way,