SOLON

L Oe how the trustless world the worldlings tosses, And leads her lovers headlong unto death, Those that do court her most have maniest crosses, And yet vain man, this half-spent spark of breath, This dying substance, and this living shadow, The sport of Fortune, and the spoil of Time, Who Like the glory of a halfe-mow'd meadow Does flourish now, and strait falls in his prime, Still toils attain (such is his foolish nature) A constant good in this inconstant ill: Unreasonable reasonable creature That makes his reason subject to his will. While in the Stage of Contemplation placed Of worldly humours I behold the strife, Though different sprites have diverse parts embraced, All act this transitory Scene of Life: Of curious minds who can the fancies fetter, The Soul unsatisfied, a prey t'each snare, Still loathing what it hath, does dream of better, Which got, but begets a greater care. And yet all labour for attain the top Of unsure sovereign bliss that they surmise, Flowers of Felicity, that few can crop, Yea, scarce can be discerned by the wise. Some place their happiness (unhappy beasts, And I must say, more senseless then their treasures) In gorgeous garments, and in dainty feasts, To pamper breath-toss'd flesh with flying pleasures. Some more austerely with a wrinkled brow That triumph over their Passion with respects, With neither fortune moved to brag or bow, Would make the world enamoured of their sects. Some ravished still with virtues purest springs, Feed on the Idea of that divine brood, And search the secrets of celestial things As most undoubted heirs of that high good. Thus with conceited ease and certain pain, All seek by several ways a perfect bliss: Which, Oh what wonder, if they not obtain, Who cannot well discern what thing it is! What happiness can be imagined here? Though we our Hope's with vain surmises cherish, Who hardly conquer first what we hold deer, Then fear to lose it still that once must perish. Think (though of many thousands scarcely any Can at this point of Happiness arrive) Yet if it chance, it chanceth not to many, Only to get for what a world did strive. And though one swim in Ocean of delights, Have none above him, and his equals rare, Ears joying pleasant sounds; eyes stately sights; His treasures infinite; his buildings fair. Yet does the world on Fortune's wheel rely, Which love's advance the wretched, wrack the great, Whose course resembles and inconstant eye, Ever in motion compassing deceat. Then let the greedy of his substance boast, While th'excrements of earth his senses smother, What hath he gained, but what another lost? And why may not his lose enrich another? But ah! all lose, who seek to profit thus, And found their confidence on things that fade, We may be robbed from them, they robbed from us, Al's grieved for th'one, as for the other glad. Vain fool, that thinks solidity to find In this frail world, where for a while we range, Which Like sea-waues, depending on the wind, Ebbs, flows, calms, storms, still moving, still in change. Each surge, we see, does driven the first away, The foam is whitest, where the Rock is near, And as one grows, another does decay, The greatest dangers oft do least appear. Their seeming bliss that trust in frothy shows, In Fortune's danger, burdened with the Fates, First to a full, then to confusion grows, A secret Destiny does guide great States. But I scorn Fortune, and was ever free From that dead wealth that wavers in her power, I bear my treasure still about with me, Which neither Time nor Tyrants can devour. Light author of events, and vain adventurers, Now do thy worst, I know how to undo thee, The way is stopped by which thy poison enters, Thou can harm none but them that trust unto thee. And I have learned to moderate my mind, Contentment is the crown of my desires: My clothes are course, my fare such as I find, He hath enough that to no more aspires. What satisfaction does overflow my soul, While as I weigh the world which few hold fast, And in my memories unblotted scroule, Judge of the present by the time that's passed? The poor-rich heir of breath that boasts of smoke, And come of dust, yet of the dross still thinks, While baser passion do his virtues choke, The soul overbalanced with the body Sinks. Yet need I not to loathe the world and live, As one whom stepdame she would never nourish, I had a partly of all that she could give, My raze, my house, by fame and wealth did flourish. And if that I would vaunt of mine own deeds, Fair City, where mine eyes first sucked the light, I challenge might what most thy glory breeds Whose labours both enlarged thy fame and might. When Salamina utterly was lost, And by the rascal multitude neglected, A counterfeited fool, I went and crossed All their designs, whose courses were suspected. And when I had by policy persuaded My country to embrace the wars again, I both by stratagems and strength invaded That famous I'll which vanquished did remain. Then having compassed that exploit with speed, And turned in triumph decked with strangers spoils, No perfect bliss below worse did succeed, The peace that was abroad bred civil broils. What with more violence does fury lead, Then a rash multitude that wants a head? The meaner sort could not their minds conform, Abide at what their betters did command: Then the weal-public in a dangerous storm, All joined to place the ruther in my hand. I reunited that divided state, And managed matters with a good success, Which farther kindled had been quenched too late, That Hidra -headed tumult to suppress. When I had both these glorious works effected, And troad the path of sovereignty a space, The minion of the people most respected, None could be great save such as I would grace. Thus carried with the force of Fortune's stream, I absolutely acted what I would, For the Democraty was but a name, My hand the reins did of the City hold. I might a Tyrant still have governed so But my pure soul could no such thought conceive, And that oversight yet made me never woe, If I may rule my self it's all I crave. Yet some that seemed to be more subtile-witted, Said my base sprite could not aspire t'a crown, And foolish Solon had a fault committed, Who would not do the Like in every town. My mind in this a more contentment finds, Then if a Diadem adorned my brow, I chain worser th'affections of undaunted minds, And made them civil that were wild till now. I hardly could rich Citizens entice, Embrace the statutes that my Laws contained, What one approved another did despise, Some loved, some loathed, even as they thought they gained. At last at least in show, all rest content, Even those that hate me most lend their applause, A worthy mind needs never to repent To-have suffered crosses for and honest cause. I travel now with a contented thought, The memory of this my fancy feeds, When all their Empires shall be turned to nought, Time cannot make a prey of Virtues deeds. Where seven-mouthed Nil from a concealed source Inunding over the fields, no banks can bind, I saw their wonders, herd their wise discourse, Rare sights enriched mine eyes, rare lights my mind. And if it were but this, yet this delights, Behold, how Croesus here the Lidian King, To be his guest us earnestly invites, The which to some would great contentment bring. But I disdain that world-bewitched man, Who makes his gold his God, the earth his heaven, Yet I will try by all the means I can To make his judgement with his fortune eauen. Disdain not (mighty Prince) the loving zeal, Which a mean man, yet a good mind affords, And who perchance as much affects your weal, As those that paint their love with fairer words. My Sovereign spare, I merit no such praise, I am but one that does the world despise, And would my thoughts to some perfection raise, A Wisedom-louer that would feign be wise. Yet with great toil all that I can attain By long experience, and in learned schools, Is for to know my knowledge is but vain, And those that think them wise are greatest fools. Il'e answer freely to what you propose, If my small skill can comprehend the sense. This is the dream of bliss that Fortune brings, On which the wisest never have presumed I saw nought but a heap of senseless things, A momentary treasure soon consumed. This only serves the body to decore, And for corruption framed cannot persever: The mind immortal lays up better store Of unconsuming joys that last for ever. Yes, I knew Tellus and Athenian born, Whom I hold happy in the first degree: Who even the harvest of Happiness hath shorn, He lived with fame, and did with honour die. For having long time lived, loved and respected, His country in a conflict had the worst: He come, and there fallen courage re-erected, And having won the field did die unforced. More happy now nor when he was alive; He dead, does reap the guerdon of his merit, And in his children does again revive, Who all their father's worthy parts inherit. o Cleobis and Biton! now I may No doubt prefer you next, without reproach, Their mother chanced on a festival day To want two horses, for to draw her coach. Them to supply the place, Love kindly raised, Who drew her to that place of public mirth, And both of them exceedingly were praised, They for their piety, she for her birth. This charitable office being ended, Both in the Church were found dead the next morrow, I think the gods who this good work commended, Were loath to let them taste of farther sorrow. For why? our lives are frail, do what we can, And Like the brittle glass, are but a glance, And oft the heavens t'abate the height of man, Do entersour our sweets with some sad chance. Sir, be not thus commoo'ud without all reason, Nor misconceive my meaning as you do, Those that speak freely, have no mind of treason, I cannot be your friend and flatter to. Unto us Grecians (Sir) the gods have granted A moderate measure of a humble wit, And in our Country there have never wanted Some whom the world for wise men did admit. And yet amongst us all, the greatest number Have here despaired of any perfect rest, Though some a while in Fortune's bosom slumber, And to world-blinded eyes seem to be blessed. Yet over all mortal states, change so prevails, We alterations daily do attend, And hold this for a ground that never fails, None should triumph in bliss before the end. I may compare our state to table-playes, Where by dumb judges matters are decided, Their many doubts, the earnest mind dismays, The dice must first cast well, then be well guided. So all our days in doubt what thing may chance us, Time runs away, the breath of man does chase it, And when occasion come's for to advance us, Amongst a thousand one can scarce embrace it. When two by generous indignation moved, Would try by sword, whose glory, fame will smother, While valour blindly by th'euent is proved, And th'ones overthrow can only grace the other. Oh what a fool his judgement will commit To crown the one with undeserved applauses, Where fortune is for to give sentence yet, While bloody agents plead such doubtful causes. This world, it is the field, where each man ventures, And armed with reason, resolutely goes, To fight against a thousand misadventures, Both with external and internal foes. And how can he the victor's title gain, That yet is busied with a doubtful fight, Or he be happy that does still remain In Fortune's danger for a small delight. Th'abortiue course of man away fast wears, Course that consists of hours, hours of a day, Day that give's place to night, night full of fears, Thus all things altar, still all things decay. Who flourish now in peace, may fallen in strife, And have their fame with infamy suppressed; The evening shew's the day, the death the life; And many are fortunate, but few are blessed. TO His king hath put his trust in trustless treasures, Cloyed with abundance of all worldy bliss, And Like a hooded hawk gorged with vain plea sures At random flies, and wots not where he is. Oh how this makes me wonderfully sorry, To see him keep this lifeless wealth so straitly, While witless worldlings wonder at his glory, Which I not envy, no, but pity greatly! Thus worms of earth, whose worst partly does prevail, Love melting things, whose show the body fits, Where Souls of clearer sighed do never fail To thesaurize the gifts of gallant wits. Those worldly things do in this world decay, Or at the least we leave them with our breath, Whereas the other makes us live foray, So differ they as far as life and death. I care not Aesop how the King conceated Of my frank speeches, which I ever use, I came not here, till I was first entreated, Nor being come, will I my name abuse: Should I his poisonous Sycophants resemble, A hateful thing to honest men that know it, I would not for his Diadem dissemble, What the heart thinks, the tongue was made to show it. And what, if his vain humour to have cherished, I had my speeches for the purpose painted, I had but got gifts that would have perished, But nothing could have cleared my fame once tainted. If I had shown my self towards him officious, It would in end have but procured my shame: To have our virtue praised by one that's vicious, This in effect is but a secret blame. He thinks him simple, who his anger raises, But better simply good, then doubly ill; I never valve my worth by others praises, Nor by opinions do direct my will. And it content's me more to be applauded By one of judgement (though of mean degree) Then by a Prince of princely parts defrauded, Who hath more wealth, but not more wit then he. Who come to Court, should truth to Kings report. And honest man will tell them what he thinks. But I would bear no burden of their sin. Yet have the warrant of a worthy mind. Yet when I merit well, I care the less. It's better to be upright, though not loved. As you have shown, Kings have a good occasion Whereby attain unto the height of wit. Which whoso do embrace by good persuasion, Are surely worthy on a Throne to fit. But ah! those Rivers are not ever pure The which through tainted channels while conveyed, Vile flatteries poison rendered hath impure. Thus are Kings hearts oft by their ears betrayed. For impudent effronted persons dare Court with vain words and detestable lies, While purer spirited men must stand afar, The light is loathsome to diseased eyes. But this does ravish oft my soul with wonder, Some that are wise, with flattery can comport, And though of all men best men's parts they ponder, Yet ever entertain the badst sort. Is't that such men as those cannot control them, Nor never cross their appetite in ought, But for each purpose that they speak extol them, Where better wits would argue as they thought, Or as they would have none for to resist them, So for advancement of the worthiest sorry, They will have none that may seem to assist them, Lest any challenge interest in their glory. This selfe-conceate is a most dangerous shelf, Where many have made shipwreck unawares: He that does trust too much unto himself, Can never fail to fallen in many snares. Of all that live, great Monarchs have most needs To balance all their actions, and their words, And with advise in all things to proceed: A faithful counsel oft great good affords. Lo, how inferior Spheres their courses bend There, whither the first Mover does them driven: The Commons customs on the Prince depend, His manners are the rules by which they live. No man is only for himself brought forth, And Kings for use of many are ordained, They should Like Suns, clear Kingdoms with their worth, Whose life a pattern must be kept unstained. Those that are virtuous have and ample field Express their wisdom and t'extend their merit, Where mean men must to their misfortune yield, While lack of power does burst a gallant spirit. As precious Stones are th'ornaments of rings, The Stone decores the ring, the ring the hand: So Countries are conform unto their Kings, The King decores the Court, the Court the Land. And as a drop of poison spent alone, Infected fountain does with venom fill, So mighty States may be orethrowne by one; A vicious Prince is a contagious ill. I grant imaginary grounds of ours Will never move a world-bewitched Prince, To disenchant himself, and spend some howrs His own designs of folly to convince. Ere Croesus can refrain from this his fury, He must forsake himself, and be renewed, And in the Lethe of oblivion bury The vanities that have his soul subdued. He first must his prerogatives all smother, And be a man, a man to be controlled, Then all his faults as they were in another Like and unpartial Arbiter behold. Could he cast off this veil of found selflove, Through which all things not as they are he spies, He would those wicked Parasites remove, Vile instruments of shame that live by lies. And only means to force them to depart, That he might judge more freely of his state, Were to cast out the Idol of his heart Which puffs him up with a pride-swollen conceate. For foreign flatterers could not find access, Were't not over-valuing his own worth too much, He flattered first himself and thinks no less But all their praises ought for to be such. And when these hireling Sycophants have found A Prince whose judgement selfe-conceat disarms, They breach his weakest partly, and bring to ground The greatness of his State with flatteries charms. Then bearing over his Passion once the sway, Least by the better sort he be advised, To wholesome counsel they close up the way, And use all means to-have honest men despised. From Court in time I will my self retire, I find my humour is not fit for Court. I'am none of those whom Croesus does desire, I can not always of his worth report. Oh that he cannot see light Fortune flout him While as he glories in this outward show, Hedged in with greedy Harpies round about him, That gape enrich themselves with his overthrow.