How happy is e born and taught
that serveth not another's wil;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his ulmost skill!
Whose passions not his master are:
Whose sol is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame, orprivate breath;
Who envies none that chance doth rairse,
Nor vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given bt praise;
NOr rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat,
Whose state can neither flatterers feed;
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gift to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend;
This man is freed from serville bands
Of hopre to rise, or fear to fall:
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem