Classic Poem

I Your bad Fortune now congratulate,
And think you in Misfortunes fortunate;
Who can the Malice of your Fate prevent,
And, less in Wealth and Pow'r, boast more Content:
Not suff'ring Fate your Spirit to depress,
You make, in spight of Fate, your Happiness.
In Chance unequal bear an equal Mind,
And do in diff'rent States no Diff'rence find.

He is not Great who gives to others Law,
But He whose Patience can his Passions awe.
Who best his worst State still can undergo,
And Constancy in Change of Fortunes shew.
Who, in his great Adversities, can find
Sure Happiness in an unshaken Mind.
Such still art Thou, and such thy happy State,
Above the Injuries of grinding Fate:
Secure of Soul, thou can'st all Fortune brave,
Scorning to be false Expectation's Slave.
No flatt'ring Hopes can thy firm Peace defeat,
Hopes, that like Shadows, when pursu'd, retreat!
To Thee external Accidents are Sport,
Who fear'st not Fate, and do'st disdain to court.
Thou then art like a God, who owes to None
His Happiness but to Himself alone.