How happy is he born or taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And silly truth his highest skill!
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death;
Untied unto the world with care
Of princely love or vulgar breath.
Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make accusers great.
Who envieth none whom chance doth raise
Or vice, who never understood
How deepest wounds are given with praise;
Not rules of State, but rules of good.
Who God doth late and early pray
More of His grace than gifts to lend;
Who entertains the harmless day
With a well-chosen book or friend.
This man is free from servile bands,
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing he hath all.