ABRAHAM COWLEY. 41 Books should, not business, entertain the light, LIBERTY. And sleep, as undisturbed as death, the WHERE honor or where conscience does night. My house a cottage more My garden painted o'er With Nature's hand, not Art's; and pleasures yield, Horace might envy in his Sabine field. Thus would I double my life's fading space; For he that runs it well twice runs his race. And in this true delight, These unbought sports, this happy state, I would not fear, nor wish, my fate; But boldly say each night, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them; I have lived today. not bind, No other law shall shackle me; Slave to myself I will not be: Who by resolves and vows engaged does stand For days that yet belong to Fate, estate Before it falls into his hand. Unhappy to the last, the kind releasing knell. |