Sonnet: To the same Purpose

SINCE you and I, my Friend, so oft have prov'd,
How false our Hopes, and full of Vanity,
To that best Good at length thy Heart apply,
Which still the more 'tis known, the more 'tis lov'd!
The present Life 's a Field, till thus improv'd,
In which midst Flowers an hidden Snake does lie,
And tho its Verdure please the wanton Eye,
Death from th' unwary Foot 's not far remov'd.
Would you then have a Mind at last secure,
And endless Joys, in which thou mayst persever,
Follow the Few, to them thy Steps inure,
And all thou canst to leave the most endeavour!
Brother, you teach well, but youself first sure,
Who oft have stray'd, yet more of late than ever.