*oo AN IGNOBLE VIE W OF LIFE. 



An honour that more fickle is than wind, 



A glory at opinion's frown that lowers, 



A treasury which bankrupt Time devours, 



A knowledge than grave ignorance more blind, 



A vain delight our equals to command, 



A style of greatness in effect a dream, 



A swelling thought of holding sea and land, 



A servile lot, decked with a pompous name ; 



Are the strange ends we toil for here below, 



Till wisest death make us our urns know." 



But the poet, while taking this despondent view of life, 

 forgets not only that it is an opportunity, but that it is the 

 first stage of an eternal existence, and that the progress begun 

 now shall be continued hereafter, when the mind, freed from 

 its material clogs, shall enter upon the full fruition of its 

 wondrous powers. And however brief it may be, is it not 

 better it should be devoted to noble work than to ignoble 

 idleness ? Is it not better to use it as a time of preparation 

 than to waste it in empty pleasures ? To the despairing wail 

 of the poet just quoted we would oppose, as far worthier of a 

 gallant spirit, Ben Jonson's admirable conclusions : 



" It is not growing like a tree 



In bulk, doth make men better be ; 

 Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 

 To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere. 

 A lily of a day 

 Is fairer far in May, 

 Although it fall and die that night ; 

 It was the plant and flower of light. 

 In small proportions we just beauties see, 

 And in short measure life may perfect be." 



This is the true philosophy ; to make our life as perfect as 



