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Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just,
Stoop'd down serene and wrote them on the dust,
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Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just,
Stoop'd down serene and wrote them on the dust,
Trod under foot, the sport of every wind,
Swept from the earth and blotted from his mind,
There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie,
And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty eye.
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails and impious men bear away,
The post of read more
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails and impious men bear away,
The post of honor is a private station.
Yet was he but a squire of low degree.
Yet was he but a squire of low degree.
Like beauteous flowers which vainly waste their scent
Of odours in unhaunted deserts.
Like beauteous flowers which vainly waste their scent
Of odours in unhaunted deserts.
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
As night the life-inclining stars best shows,
So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.
As night the life-inclining stars best shows,
So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.
How often the highest talent lurks in obscurity.
[Lat., Ut saepe summa ingenia in occulto latent!]
How often the highest talent lurks in obscurity.
[Lat., Ut saepe summa ingenia in occulto latent!]
I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
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I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
I want to be forgotten even by God.
