They think not then which side the cause shall leese, Nor how to get the lawyer fees. Such, and no other was that age of old, Which boasts t’ have had the head of gold. And such since thou canst make thine own content, Strive, Wroth, to live long innocent. Let others watch in guilty arms, and stand The fury of a rash command, Go enter breaches, meet the cannon’s rage, That they may sleep with scars in age. And show their feathers shot and colours torn, And brag that they were therefore born. Let this man sweat, and wrangle at the bar For every price in every jar And change possessions oftener with his breath, Than either money, war or death: Let him, than hardest sires, more disinherit, And each where boast it as his merit, To blow up orphans, widows, and their states; And think his power doth equal Fate’s. Let that go heap a mass of wretched wealth, Purchas’d by rapine, worse than stealth, And brooding o’er it sit, with broadest eyes, Not doing good, scarce when he dies. Let thousands more go flatter vice, and win, By being organs to great sin, Get place and honour, and be glad to keep The secrets, that shall breake their sleep: And, so they ride in purple, eat in plate, Though poyson, think it a great fate. But thou, my Wroth, if I can truth apply, Shalt neither that, nor this envy: Thy peace is made; and, when man’s state is well, ’Tis better, if he there can dwell. God wisheth none should wrack on a strange shelf; To him man’s dearer than t’ himself. And, howsoever we may think things sweet, He alwayes gives what he knows meet; Which who can use is happy: such be thou. Thy morning’s and thy evening’s vow Be thanks to him, and earnest prayer, to find A body sound, with sounder mind; To do thy country service, thy self right; That neither want do thee affright, Nor death; but when thy latest sand is spent, Thou mayst think life a thing but lent.’ Of all the poetical Epistles of this period, however, that of Daniel to the Countess of Cumberland, for weight of thought and depth of feeling, bears the palm. The reader will not peruse this effusion with less interest or pleasure, from knowing that it is a favourite with Mr. Wordsworth.