TO THE NEW YEAR.
165
Nor let thy livery be
Either black Sin, or gaudy Vanity:
Nay, if thou lov'st me, gentle Year!
Let not so much as Love be there;
Vain fruitless Love, I mean; for, gentle Year!
Although I fear,
There's of this caution little need,
Yet, gentle Year! take heed
How thou dost make
Such a mistake:
Such Love I mean, alone,
As by thy cruel predecessors has been shown;
For, though I have too much cause to doubt it,
I fain would try for once if Life can live without it.
Either black Sin, or gaudy Vanity:
Nay, if thou lov'st me, gentle Year!
Let not so much as Love be there;
Vain fruitless Love, I mean; for, gentle Year!
Although I fear,
There's of this caution little need,
Yet, gentle Year! take heed
How thou dost make
Such a mistake:
Such Love I mean, alone,
As by thy cruel predecessors has been shown;
For, though I have too much cause to doubt it,
I fain would try for once if Life can live without it.
Into the future times why do we pry,
And seek to antedate our misery?
Like jealous men, why are we longing still
To see the thing which only seeing makes an ill?
’Tis well the face is veil'd; for 't were a sight
That would ev'n happiest men affright;
And something still they'd spy that would destroy
The past and present joy.
In whatsoever character
The book of Fate is writ,
’Tis well we understand not it;
We should grow mad with little learning there:
Upon the brink of every ill we did foresee,
Undecently and foolishly
And seek to antedate our misery?
Like jealous men, why are we longing still
To see the thing which only seeing makes an ill?
’Tis well the face is veil'd; for 't were a sight
That would ev'n happiest men affright;
And something still they'd spy that would destroy
The past and present joy.
In whatsoever character
The book of Fate is writ,
’Tis well we understand not it;
We should grow mad with little learning there:
Upon the brink of every ill we did foresee,
Undecently and foolishly
