Classic Poem

1

No, no, unfaithfull World, thou hast
Too long my easy heart betray'd,
And me too long thy football made:
But I am wiser growne at last,
 And will improve by all that I have past
 I know 'twas just I should be practis'd on;
  For I was told before,
 And told in sober and instructive lore,
How little all that trusted thee have won:
And yet I would make hast to be undone.
And by my suff'rings I am better taught,
And shall no more committ that stupid fault
 Go, get some other foole,
 Whom thou may'st next cajole:
On me thy frownes thou dost in vaine bestow;
  For I know now
To be as coy and as reserv'd as thou.

2

In my remote and humble seate
  Now I'm again possest
Of that late fugitive, my breast,
From all thy tumult and from all thy heat
I'le find a quiet and a coole retreate;
  And on the fetters I have worne
Looke with experienced and revengefull scorne,
  In this my soveraigne privacie.
  'Tis true I cannot governe thee,
  But yet my selfe I can subdue;
And that's the nobler empire of the two.
  If every passion had got leave
  Its satisfaction to receive,
Yet I would it a higher pleasure call,
To conquer one, then to indulge them all.

3

For thy inconstant Sea, no more
I'le leave that safe and solid shore:
No, though to prosper in the cheat,
Thou shouldst my destiny defeat,
 And make me belov'd, and rich, and great:
Nor from my selfe shouldst me reclaime
With all the noise and all the pomp of fame
  Judiciously I'le these despise;
Too small the bargaine, and too great the price,
  For them to couzen twice
  At length this secret I have learn'd;
Who will be happy, must be unconcern'd,
Must all their comfort in their bosome weare,
And seeke their power and their treasure there.

4

No other Wealth will I aspire,
But that of nature to admire;
 Nor envy on a lawrell will bestow,
 Whilst I have any in my garden grow.
And when I would be great,
'Tis but ascending to a seat
  Which nature in a lofty rock hath built;
  A throne as free from trouble as from guilt.
Where when my soule her wings doth raise
Above what worldlings feare or praise,
  With innocent and quiet pride I'le sit,
  And see the waves pay tribute to my feet
O life divine, when free from joyes diseas'd,
Not allwayes merry, but yet allwayes pleas'd.

5

A heart, which is too great a thing
To be a present for a persian King,
Which God himselfe would have to be his court,
Where Angels would officiously resort,
 From its owne height should much decline,
 If this converse it should resigne,
 (Ill natur'd world!) for thine.
Thy unwise rigour hath thy empire lost;
 It hath not only set me free,
  But it hath let me see,
They only can of thy possession boast,
Who do enjoy thee least, and understand thee most.
For lo! the man whom all mankind admir'd,
By every grace adorn'd, and every must inspir'd,
  Is now triumphantly retir'd
 The mighty Cowley this hath done,
And over thee a Parthian conquest won:
 Which future ages shall adore,
 And which in this subdues thee more
Then either Greeke or Roman ever could before.