Cure for Afflictions

SOUL, rule thy Passions, dry thy weeping Eyes,
Thou Breath of Heav'n, should'st Earthly Cares despise:
When fiercest troubles thus disturb thy Rest,
To their Assaults oppose a constant Breast.

O'er Fortune's Pow'r then shalt thou have command:
So Rocks unmov'd 'gainst Beating Surges stand.
Nor boast, if in this Conflict thou o'ercome,
Or when subdu'd, poorly lament at home.

Think, having cause to grieve, or to rejoyce,
No Course of Humane Things is in thy Choyce.