THE CENTURY OF LIFE
REMONSTRANCE WITH THE SUPPLIANT
What the Creator on thy forehead traced As on a plate of bronze indelibly, Expect that much or little, worst or best, Wherever thou dwell, nobly or wretchedly, Since thou shalt not have less, though full of pain In deserts waterless mid savage men Thou wander sole; nor on Olympus hoar Ranked amid mighty Gods shalt thou have more. Therefore be royal-hearted still and bold, O man, nor thy proud crest in vain abase Cringing to rich men for their gathered gold. From the small well or ocean fathomless The jar draws equally what it can hold.
THE RAINLARK TO THE CLOUD
You opulent clouds that in high heavens ride,
is’t fame you seek? but surely all men know
To you the darting rainlarks homage owe! Hold you then back your showers, because your pride By our low suings must be gratified?
TO THE RAINLARK
O rainlark, rainlark, flitting near the cloud, Attentive hear, winged friend, a friendly word.
All vapours are not like, the heavens that shroud
Darkening; some drench the earth for noble fruit,
Some are vain thunderers wandering by with bruit: Sue not to each thou seest then, O bird;
If humbly entreat thou must, let few have heard.
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