Nor dare repine though early friendship bleed;
From love, the world, and all its cares, he's freed.
But know, adversity's the child of God:
Whom Heaven approves of most, must feel her rod.
When smooth old Ocean, and each storm's asleep,
Then ignorance may plough the watery deep;
But when the demons of the tempest rave,
Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave.
Sidney, what good man envies not thy blow?
Who would not wish Anytus* for a foe?
Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate:
The good can never be unfortunate,
And be this maxim graven in thy mind;
The height of virtue is, to serve mankind.
But when old age has silver'd o'er thy head,
When memory fails; and all thy vigour's fled,
Then mayst thou seek the stillness of retreat,
Then hear aloof the human tempest beat;
Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave,
Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave.
Qne of the accufers of Socrates