Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower; Of sad Electra's poet† had the power ON HIS BLINDNESS. When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies :-"God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts; Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best. state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait." His * Alexander the Great, when 90,000 Thebans were killed and 30,000 taken prisoners. + Euripides, when some of his verses happened to be sung at a banquet given to a council of war, during the conquest of Athens by Lysander. PSALM CXXXVI. Let us, with a gladsome mind, Who, by his wisdom, did create All living creatures he doth feed, HORACE. Sat. i., 10, 14. --Joking decides great things Stronglier and better, oft, than earnest can. SAMUEL BUTLER. From HUDIBRAS, Part I. Canto I. When civil dudgeon first grew high, Was beat with fist instead of a stick; A wight he was, whose very sight would Nor put up blow, but that which laid As men their best apparel do. As naturally as pigs squeak; |