De Vita Beata — Paraphras'd from the Latin

Come, y'are deceiv'd, and what you do
Esteem a happy Life's not so;
He is not happy that excells
I'th' Lapidary's Bagatells;
Nor he, that when he sleeps doth lye
Under a stately Canopy;
Nor he, that still supinely hides,
In easie Down, his lazy sides;
Nor he, that Purple wears, and sups
Luxurious Draughts in golden Cups;
Nor he, that loads, with Princely Fare,
His bowing Tables, whilst they'l bear;
Nor he, that has each spacious Vault
With Deluges of Plenty fraught,
Cull'd from the fruitful Libyan Fields,
When Autumn his best Harvest yields:
But he whom no mischance affrights,
Nor popular applause delights,
That can unmov'd, and undismay'd
Confront a Ruffians threatning blade:
Who can do this; that man alone
Has power Fortune to disthrone.