Upbear me in your arms, unceasing river,

That from the soul's clear fountain swiftly pours,

Motionless not, until the end is won,

Which now I feel hath scarcely felt the sun.

To feel, to know, to soar unlimited, 'Mid throngs of light-winged angels sweeping far,

And pore upon the realms unvisited, That tesselate the unseen unthought

star,

To be the thing that now I feebly dream

Flashing within my faintest, deepest gleam.

Ah, caverns of my soul! how thick your shade,

Where flows that life by which I faintly see,

Wave your bright torches, for I need your aid,

Golden-eyed demons of my ancestry!

Your son though blinded hath a light within,

A heavenly fire which ye from suns did win.

O Time! O Death! I clasp you in my arms,

For I can soothe an infinite cold sorrow,

And gaze contented on your icy charms,

And that wild snow-pile which we call to-morrow;

Sweep on, O soft, and azure-lidded sky,

Earth's waters to your gentle gaze reply.

I see how plentie surfeits oft,

And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as sit aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all. These get with toil, and keep with fear;

Such cares my mind could never

bear.

No princely pomp nor wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to win a lover's eye-
To none of these I yield as thrall;
For why, my mind despiseth all.

Some have too much, yet still they

crave;

I little have, yet seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have;

And I am rich with little store. They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I lend; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at another's loss,

I grudge not at another's gaine; No worldly wave my mind can toss; I brook that is another's bane. I feare no foe, nor fawn on friend; I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.

I joy not in no earthly blisse;

I weigh not Croesus' wealth a straw;

For care, I care not what it is;

I fear not fortune's fatal law; My mind is such as may not move For beauty bright, or force of love.

I wish but what I have at will;
I wander not to seek for more;
I like the plain, I climb no hill;

In greatest storms I sit on shore, And laugh at them that toil in vain To get what must be lost again.

I kisse not where I wish to kill;

I feign not love where most I hate; I break no sleep to win my will;

I wait not at the mighty's gate. I scorn no poor, I fear no rich; I feel no want, nor have too much.

The court nor cart I like nor loathe; Extremes are counted worst of all; The golden mean betwixt them both Doth surest sit, and fears no fall;

This is my choyce; for why, I find No wealth is like a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;

My conscience clear my chief defence;

I never seek by bribes to please,

Nor by desert to give offence. Thus do I live, thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I! WILLIAM BYRD.

AN HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.

You that can look through Heaven, and tell the stars,

Observe their kind conjunctions, and their wars;

Find out new lights, and give them where you please,

To these men honors, pleasures, to those ease;

You that are God's surveyors, and can show

How far, and when, and why the wind doth blow;

Know all the charges of the dreadful thunder,

And when it will shoot over, or fall under:

Tell me, by all your art I conjure ye, Yes, and by truth, what shall become of me?

Find out my star, if each one, as

He made the Angels thine, thy fellows all,

Nay, even thy servants, when devotions call.

Oh canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,

To seek a saving influence, and lose him?

Can Stars protect thee? or can poverty,

Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye?

He is my star; in him all truth I find,

All influence, all fate, and when my mind

Is furnished with his fullnesse, my poor story

Shall outlive all their Age, and all their glory.

The hand of danger cannot fall amiss,

When I know what, and in whose power it is.

Nor want, the cause of man, shall make me groan;

A holy hermit is a mind alone. Doth not experience teach us all we