left at man's command--
Fortune should in one rich flow
As many heaps on him bestow
Of massy gold, as there be sands
Toss'd by the waves and winds rude bands,
Or bright stars in a winter night
Decking their silent orbs with light;
Yet would his lust know no restraints,
Nor cease to weep in sad complaints.
Though Heaven should his vows regard,
And in a prodigal reward
Return him all he could implore,
Adding new honours to his store,
Yet all were nothing. Goods in sight
Are scorn'd, and lust in greedy flight
Lays out for more; what measure then
Can tame these wild desires of men?
Since all we give both last and first
Doth but inflame, and feed their thirst.
For how can he be rich, who 'midst his store
Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor.

METRUM III.

When the sun from his rosy bed
The dawning light begins to shed,
The drowsy sky uncurtains round,
And the--but now bright--stars all drown'd
In one great light look dull and tame,
And homage his victorious flame.
Thus, when the warm Etesian wind
The Earth's seal'd bosom doth unbind,
Straight she her various store discloses,
And purples every grove with roses;
But if the South's tempestuous breath
Breaks forth, those blushes pine to death.
Oft in a quiet sky the deep
With unmov'd waves seems fast asleep,
And oft again the blust'ring North
In angry heaps provokes them forth.
If then this world, which holds all nations,
Suffers itself such alterations,
That not this mighty massy frame,
Nor any part of it can claim
One certain course, why should man prate,
Or censure the designs of Fate?
Why from frail honours, and goods lent
Should he expect things permanent?
Since 'tis enacted by Divine decree
That nothing mortal shall eternal be.

METRUM IV.

Who wisely would for his retreat
Build a secure and lasting seat,
Where stov'd in silence he may sleep
Beneath the wind, above the deep;
Let him th' high hills leave on one hand,
And on the other the false sand.
The first to winds lies plain and even,
From all the blust'ring points of heaven;
The other, hollo