A Farewell to the World
FALSE world, good night! since thou hast broughtThat hour upon my morn of age;Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,My part is ended on thy stage.
Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fearAs little as I hope from thee:I know thou canst not show nor bearMore hatred than thou hast to me.
My tender, first, and simple yearsThou didst abuse and then betray;Since stir'd'st up jealousies and fears,When all the causes were away.
Then in a soil hast planted meWhere breathe the basest of thy fools;Where envious arts professed be,And pride and ignorance the schools;
Where nothing is examined, weigh'd,But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed;Where every freedom is betray'd,And every goodness tax'd or grieved.
But what we're born for, we must bear:Our frail condition it is suchThat what to all may happen here,If 't chance to me, I must not grutch.
Else I my state should much mistakeTo harbour a divided thoughtFrom all my kind--that, for my sake,There should a miracle be wrought.
No, I do know that I was bornTo age, misfortune, sickness, grief:But I will bear these with that scornAs shall not need thy false relief.
Nor for my peace will I go far,As wanderers do, that still do roam;But make my strengths, such as they are,Here in my bosom, and at home.
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