When Equinoctial tempests raise
The Cape's surrounding wave;
When hanging o'er the reef, he hears
The cracking mast, and sees or fears,
Beneath, his wat'ry grave.

For ease the slow _Maratta_ spoils,
And hardier _Sic_ erratic toils,
While both their ease forego;
For ease, which neither gold can buy,
Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belie,
The cover'd heart bestow;

For neither gold nor gems combin'd
Can heal the soul, or suffering mind;
Lo! where their owner lies,
Perch'd on his couch Distemper breathes,
And Care like smoke, in turbid wreathes,
Round the gay cieling flies.

He who enjoys, nor covets more,
The lands his father held before,
Is of true bliss possess'd:
Let but his mind unfetter'd tread
Far as the paths of knowledge lead,
And wise as well as blest.

No fears his peace of mind annoy
Lest printed lies his fame destroy,
Which labour'd years have won,