Behind me blooms a mystical far place,
Filled with faint dreams and odours of delight;
As when a mariner beneath the night
Leaves the soft isle that for a little space
Covered his wandering shrouds with warmth and grace,
And sweet strange perfumes wafted from the shore
Follow. — My island shall return no more,
Nor scents of blossoms soothe a sleepless face.

But as in far Pacific hazy seas
Lingers that moonlit island of my soul,
Washed over by a honey-perfumed breeze.
And there the bright birds flit from knoll to knoll,

Must I not die? What matter if I go
To Pluto's mansion with a gouty toe?
Whether I totter lame or run all day
I shall not want for bearers on my way;
And so, my boys, as sure as I'm a sinner
I don't intend to miss a single dinner.

The high estate is daungerous,
The poore degree is burdenous.
The welthie sorte are couetous,
The needie soule is dolorous.
The youthfull Imps are prodigall.
The aged be to riches thrall.
The bolder men foolehard ye call,
And fearefull wightes are dastards all.
Then yll eschew, embrace things cleane,
Well fare the sweete and golden meane.

Buxom dames I like them all,
Be they young or old;
For I love a matron tall
When her hair is gold;
And if it be turning gray
Still to please she'll find a way.

Take heed and never woman wed
Who is too thin, or too well fed,
Avoid " too little" as " too much,"
For then the golden mean you touch;
And shun in matters of the flesh
Deficiency or gross excess.

Permit once more an artless lay to send,
Forgive the author, and the strain attend.
More bright and lasting beauty would you find?
Then seek it in the graces of the mind:
Let blushing modesty its aid bestow,
And teach your cheeks with purer red to glow;
Let gentleness bid native smiles to rise,
Dimple your mouth, and sparkle in your eyes;
Let sympathy of the unhappy's woe
Your bosom teach to heave, your eyes to flow;
Most charming then the heaving breast appears,
And brightest beam the eyes through pity's tears,

Three darling young damsels engaged in a wrangle
Concerning the charms of that secret triangle
We are never permitted to see.
Neither Polly nor Betty nor Susan would yield;
And, as each claimed the prize for her own special field,
They referred the whole matter to me.

Dear Poll was a garden where red roses grew,
Set about a clear fountain; and as for sweet Sue,
She was ruby and pearl mixed together.
And then came fair Betty; the smoothest of glass
Could scarcely the sheen of her satin surpass,
As soft as a dove's burnished feather.

As meane in Musicke soundeth beste
So meane estate liues most in reste.
The higher clymde, the fall more deepe,
The deeper fall, the doubler paine,
Declyning paine doth carefull keepe,
In man eche liuely limme and vaine.
Which prooues what change or chaunce doe fall,
Contented meane exceedeth all.

I.

I part with thee, but leave thee not,
Thy beauty haunteth every spot,
To which my wandering steps may turn;
Thy bright dark eyes before me burn,
And with fond glances ever bless my lot.

II.

My dreams incessantly display
Thy fairy form; and in the day
I see it " in my mind's eye " still —
My joy in joy, my hope in ill —
A bliss that seems not formed to pass away.

III.

Thus is thy power omnipotent,

If friendship true be tryde when welth doth fayle,
from such as fayne, and flee if fortune lowre:
If he a friend that seemes not then to quayle,
but seekes to helpe and ayde his friend to powre.
My S TAPLEE then a friend thou art in deede,
That helps thy friend in time of nipping neede.