Fortune contemns the whining slave,
And loves to smile upon the brave.

In all the various checquer'd strife
We meet with in the road of life,
Whate'er the object we pursue,
There's always something to subdue;
Some foe, alas! to evil prone,
In other's bosoms or our own.
That man alone is truly great,

Who nobly meets the frowns of Fate;
Who, when the threat'ning tempests low'r,
When the clouds burst in pelting show'r,
When lightning flash along the sky,
And thunders growl in sympathy,
With calmness to the scene conforms,
Nor fears nor mocks the angry storms:
He does not run, all helter-skelter,
To seek a temporary shelter;

Nor does he fume, and fret, and foam,
Because he's distant far from home;
For well he knows, each peril past,
He's sure to find a home at last.

If petty evils round you swarm,
Let not their buz your temper warm;
But brush them from your mind away,
Like insects of a summer's day.

Evil oppose with Reason's power, Nor fear the dark or threat'ning hour;

If Spite and Malice are your foes,
If fell Revenge its arrow throws,
Look calmly on, nor fear the dart, —

Virtue will guard the honest heart;
Nor let your angry spirit burn
The pointed missile to return.

The good man never fails to wield
A broad and strong protecting shield
That will preserve him thro' the strife
Which never fails to trouble life;
And, when he meets his final doom,
Will form a trophy for his tomb.

Bear and forbear, - a dogma

As human wisdom ever drew.
If you would lighten every care,
And ev'ry sorrow learn to bear,
To be secure from vile disgrace,
Look frowning Fortune in the face;
And, if the foe's too strong, retreat,
But not as if you had been beat:
Calmly avoid th' o'erpowring fray,
Nor fight when you can stalk away;
For you can scarce be said to yield,
If, when you slowly quit the field,
You so present yourself to view,
That a brave foe dare not pursue.

true

I, who have long been doom'd to trudge, Without a patron or a judge,

I, who have seen the booby rise

To dignified pluralities,

While I his flock to virtue steer,

For hard-earn'd thirty pounds a year;
A flock, alas! he does not know,
But by the fleeces they bestow;
I, who have felt the heaviest fate
That doth on Learning's toil await;
For, when a man's the sport of Heaven,
To keep a school the fellow's driven;

Nor when that thought gay Lucian spoke,
He did not mean to crack a joke;
I still man's dignity maintain'd,
And tho' I felt, I ne'er complained.

If life's a farce, mere children's play,
Let the rich trifle it away.

I cannot model mine by theirs;
For I have borne a life of cares.

And some rich blockhead struts a Lord:

But all the sceptred pow'rs that live

Cannot one ray of genius give.
Heaven and Nature must combine
To make the flame of genius shine;
Of wealth regardless, or degree,
It may be sent to shine on me.

Learning, I thank thee! Tho' by toil

And the pale lamp of midnight oil.

I gain'd thy smiles; tho', many a year
Fortune refus'd my heart to cheer;

By thy inspiring laurels cown'd,

1oft could smile while Fortune frown'd

Beguil'd by thee, I oft forgot

My uncomb'd wig and rusty coat:
When coals were dear, and low my fire,
I warm'd myself with Homer's lyre:
Or, in a dearth of ale benign,

I eager quaff'd the stream divine,
Which flows in Virgil's ev'ry line.
To save me from domestic brawls,
I thunder'd Tully to the walls.
When nought I did could Dolly please,
I laugh'd with Aristophanes:
And oft has Grizzle on my way
Heard me from Horace smart and gay.

Tho' with the world I struggled hard,
Virtue my best, but sole, reward;
When my whole income just would keep
The wolf from preying on the sheep;
Ne'er would I change my classic store.
For all that Croesus had, or more;
Nor would I lose what I have read,
Tho' tempting Fortune, in its stead,
Would show'r down mitres on my head.

Bear and forbear, - an adage true
As human wisdom ever drew;
That this I've practis'd thro' my life,
I have a witness in my wife;

For, tho' she'd sometimes snarl and scold,

I never would a parley hold;

And when she, tho' but seldom, swore,
I check'd the oath, but said no more,
And all returning taunts forbore *).

*) Der Mensch, glaube ich, ist doppelt verdammt, der aus dem Besten das Schlimmste macht, und derjenige, bin ich versichert,

Auf dem letzten Kupfer fährt er mit seiner Frau, die zum erstenmale zufrieden aussieht, nach einer bes

ist doppelt selig, der aus dem Schlimmsten das Beste machen Sitzen und sorgen, und klagen, heifst Thorheit unsern Leiden hinzufügen.

kann.

Bei widrigem Schicksal giebt es kein Laster, welches nachtheiliger ist, als die Feigheit: durch Widerstand machen wir auf den ehrwürdigen Namen von Christen Anspruch. Selbst der Teufel, widersteht ihr ihm, giebt seinen überlegten Streich auf. Das Glück verachtet den wimmernden Sclaven, und lächelt gern dem Tapfern.

In all dem verschiedenen, wechsel farbigen Streit, den wir auf unserer Lebensreise antreffen, was immer für einen Gegenstand wir verfolgen, giebt es stets etwas zu überwältigen, irgend einen ach! zum Bösen geneigten Feind, in dem Busen anderer oder unserm eigenen. Der en allein ist wahrhaft grofs, der auf eine edle Weise dem Zorne des Schicksals begegnet; der, wenn die drohenden Stürme heraufziehen, wenn die Wolken in strömenden Regen ausbrechen, wenn Blitze längs dem Himmel zucken, und der Donner sympathetisch brüllt, mit Ruhe der Scene sich anpafst, und die zornigen Stürme weder fürchtet noch ihrer spottet: er rennt nicht über Stock und Stein, ein temporaires Obdach zu suchen; auch tobt und wüthet und schäumt er nicht, weil er weit entfernt vom Hause ist; denn er weifs sehr wohl, dafs, nach jeder überstandenen Gefahr, er sicher ist, am Ende eine Heimath zu finden.

Wenn geringe Uebel dich umschwärmen, so lafs ihr Ge sumse dich nicht warm machen; sondern fege sie von deiner Seele weg, wie Insecten eines Sommertages.