The
man of life upright, whose guiltless heart is free
From
all dishonest deeds and thoughts of vanity:
The
man whose silent days in harmless joys are spent,
Whom
hopes cannot delude, nor fortune discontent;
That
man needs neither towers nor armor for defense,
Nor
secret vaults to fly from thunder's violence:
He
only can behold with unaffrighted eyes
The
horrors of the deep and terrors of the skies;
Thus
scorning all the care that fate or fortune brings,
He
makes the heaven his book, his wisdom heavenly things;
Good
thoughts his only friends, his wealth a well-spent age,
The
earth his sober inn and quiet pilgrimage.
By
Sir Francis Bacon
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