To another Friend under Affliction. John Pomfret Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. N21233 Pomfret, John, 1667-1702. Poems upon Several Occasions. By the Reverend Mr. John Pomfret [poems only]. The Sixth Edition, Corrected. With some Account Of his Life and Writings. To which are added, His Remains. London printed for D. Brown without Temple Bar, J. Walthoe in the Temple Cloysters, A. Bettesworth, and E. Taylor, in Pater-Noster-Row, and J. Hooke in Fleetstreet 1724 pp. 60-64. [12], 132, vi, 17p.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
To another Friend under Affliction . Since the first Man by Disobedience fell An easy Conquest to the Pow'rs of Hell , There's none , in every Stage of Life can be From the Insults of bold Affliction free . If a short respite gives us some Relief , And interrupts the Series of our Grief , So quick the Pangs of Misery return , We Joy by Minutes , but by Years we Mourn . Reason refin'd and to perfection brought , By wise Philosophy , and serious Thought , Supports the Soul beneath the pond'rous Weight Of angry Stars , and unpropitious Fate , Then is the time she should exert her Pow'r , And make us practice what she taught before . For why are such Volum'nous Authors read , The learned Labours of the famous Dead . But to prepare the Mind for its defence , By sage Results , and well-digested , Sense ; That when the Storm of Misery appears With all its real , or fantastick Fears , We either may the rolling danger fly , Or stem the Tide before it swells too high . But tho' the Theory of Wisdom's known With ease , what should , and what should not be done : Yet all the labour in the Practice lies , To be in more than Words , and Notion wise , The sacred Truths of sound Philosophy We study early , but we late apply . When stubborn Anguish seizes on the Soul , Right-Reason would its haughty Rage controul ; But if it mayn't be suffer'd , to endure The Pain is just , when we reject the Cure . For many Men , close observation finds , Of copious Learning , and exalted Minds ; Who tremble at the sight of daring Woes , And stoop ignobly to the vilest Foes ; As if they understood not how to be Or wise , or brave , but in Felicity ; And by some Action , servile , or unjust , Lay all their former Glories in the Dust . For Wisdom first the wretched Mortal flies , And leaves him naked to his Enemies . So that when most his Prudence should be shown , The most imprudent giddy things are done : For when the Mind's surrounded with Distress , Fear , or Inconstancy , the Judgment press , And render it incapable to make Wise Resolutions , or good Counsels take . Yet there's a steadiness of Soul , and Thought , By Reason bred , and by Religion taught , Which , like a Rock amidst the stormy Waves , Unmov'd remains , and all Affliction braves . In sharp Misfortunes some will search too deep , What Heaven prohibits , and would secret keep : But those Events 'tis better not to know , Which known , serve only to increase our Woe . Knowledge forbid , ( 'tis dang'rous to pursue , ) With Guilt begins , and ends with Ruin too . For had our earliest Parents been content Not to know more , than to be innocent : Their Ignorance of Evil had preserv'd Their Joys entire ; for then they had not swerv'd . But they imagin'd , ( their Desires were such , ) They knew too little , till they knew too much . E'er since by Folly most to Wisdom rise , And few are , but by sad Experience , Wise . Consider , Friend ! who all your Blessings gave , What are recall'd again , and what you have ; And do not murmur , when you are bereft Of little , if you have abundance left . Consider too , how many Thousands are Under the worst of Miseries , Despair : And don't repine at what you now endure , Custom will give you Ease , or Time will cure . Once more consider , that the present Ill , Tho' it be great , may yet be greater still ; And be not anxious ; for to undergo One Grief , is nothing to a numerous Woe . But since it is impossible to be Human , and not expos'd to Misery , Bear it , my Friend , as bravely as you can ; You are not more , and be not less than Man ! Afflictions past , can no Existence find , But in the wild Ideas of the Mind : And why should we for those Misfortunes mourn , Which have been suffer'd , and can ne'er return ? Those that have weather'd a tempestuous Night , And find a Calm approaching with the Light , Will not , unless their Reason they disown , Still make those Dangers present , that are gone . What is behind the Curtain , none can see ; It may be Joy , suppose it Misery . 'Tis future still , and that , which is not here , May never come , or we may never bare . Therefore the present Ill , alone we ought To view , in reason , with a troubled Thought : But , if we may the sacred Pages trust , He's always Happy , that is always Just .