A Farewell to the World

False world, good night! since thou hast brought

That hour upon my morn of age;

Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,

My part is ended on thy stage.

Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear

As little as I hope from thee:

I know thou canst not show nor bear

More hatred than thou hast to me.

My tender, first, and simple years

Thou didst abuse and then betray;

Since stir'd'st up jealousies and fears,

When all the causes were away.

Then in a soil hast planted me

Where breathe the basest of thy fools;

Where envious arts professéd be,

And pride and ignorance the schools;

Where nothing is examined, weigh'd,

But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed;

Where every freedom is betray'd,

And every goodness tax'd or grieved.

But what we're born for, we must bear:

Our frail condition it is such

That what to all may happen here,

If 't chance to me, I must not grutch.

Else I my state should much mistake

To harbour a divided thought

From all my kind—that, for my sake,

There should a miracle be wrought.

No, I do know that I was born

To age, misfortune, sickness, grief:

But I will bear these with that scorn

As shall not need thy false relief.