CHARLES COTTON, ESQ. xix 



T" expose his naked empty head 



To all the storms man's peace invade. 



XIII. 



JVor is he happy who is trim, 



Trickt up in favors of the fair ; 

 Mirrors, with ev'ry breath made dim, 



Birds caught in ev'ry wanton snare. 



XIV. 



Woman, man's greatest woe or bliss, 



Does ofter far, than serve, enslave. 

 And with the magic of a kiss. 



Destroys whom she was made to save. 



XV. 



Oh fruitful grief/ the world's disease. 



And vainer man to make it so. 

 Who gives his miseries increase. 



By cultivating his own woe. 



XVI. 



There are no ills but what we make. 



By giving shapes and names to things. 

 Which is the dangerous mistake 



That causes all our sufferings. 



XVII. 



We call that sickness which is health. 



That persecution which is grace. 

 That poverty which is true wealth. 



And that dishonor which is praise. 



xviir. 



Providence watches over all. 



And that with an impartial eye ; 

 And if to misery we fall, 



'Tis through our own infirmity. 



XIX. 



'Tis want of foresight makes the bold 



Ambitious youth to danger climb ; 

 And want of virtue when the old 



At persecution do repine. 



