XLIV. Francis Davison

CALME thy tempestuous thoughts, my mind!

Leaue mutyniing, and rest secure,

That God, being goodness selfe, is kind,

And kind will still endure

To them whose heartes are pure.

Without the staff of heauenly grace,

How prone to fall is feeble man!

My feet tript in my heedles race,

And so to slide began,

As I could hardly stand;

When I saw fooles advaunc’d so high,

And dazzling height did make them mad,

And grieving saw with envious eie,

That they who were most bad

Most happy fortunes had.

For their lives’ thrid so well is spun,

And with good fortunes so well wound,

As lives’ and fortunes’ web doth run

From end to end so sound

As knot nor brack is found.

From sweatting toyle, and eating care,

The wreck of bodie, rack of mind

Of other mortalls, free they are:

A priveledge they find,

Of woe to tast no kind.