John Dryden

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, read more

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

Ill fortune seldom comes alone.

Ill fortune seldom comes alone.

Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.

Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.

But far more numerous was the herd of such,
Who think too little, and who talk too much.

But far more numerous was the herd of such,
Who think too little, and who talk too much.

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
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Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.