Matthew Prior

He will not carry his wealth to the waters of Acheron.

He will not carry his wealth to the waters of Acheron.

The winds grow high;
Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars;
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The winds grow high;
Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars;
And big waves lash the frightened shores.

Ev'n so, with all submission, I
. . . .
Send you each year a homely letter,
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Ev'n so, with all submission, I
. . . .
Send you each year a homely letter,
Who may return me much a better.

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of read more

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of which you need not read one letter,
The worse the scrawl, the dose the better.
For if you knew but what you take,
Though you recover, he must break.

Instinct and reason how can we divide?
'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride.

Instinct and reason how can we divide?
'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride.