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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Decision Of Fortune</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fortune well-Pictur'd on a rolling Globe, <br>With waving Locks, and thin transparent Robe, <br>A Man beholding, to his Neighbor cry'd, <br>Whoe'er would catch this Dame, must swiftly ride. <br>Mark, how she seems to Fly, and with her bears, <br>All that is worth a busie Mortal's Cares: <br>The gilded Air about her Statue shines, <br>As if the Earth had lent it all her Mines; <br>At random Here a Diadem she flings, <br>And There a scarlet Hat with dangling Strings, <br>And to ten Thousand Fools ten Thousand glorious Things. <br>Shall I then stay at Home, Dull and Content <br>With Quarter-Days, and hard extorted Rent? <br>No, I'll to Horse, to Sea, to utmost Isles, <br>But I'll encounter her propitious Smiles: <br>Whilst you in slothful Ease may chuse to Sleep, <br>And scarce the few Paternal Acres keep. <br>Farewel, reply'd his Friend, may you advance, <br>And grow the Darling of this Lady Chance: <br>Whilst I indeed, not courting of her Grace, <br>Shall dwell content, in this my Native Place, <br>Hoping I still shall for your Friend be known: <br>But if too big for such Acquaintance grown, <br>I shan't be such a fond mistaken Sot, <br>To think Remembrance should become my Lot; <br>When you Exalted, have your self Forgot. <br>Nor me Ambitious ever shall you find, <br>Or hunting Fortune, who, they say, is Blind: <br>But if her Want of Sight shou'd make her Stray, <br>She shou'd be Welcome, if she came this way. <br>'Tis very like (the Undertaker cry'd) <br>That she her steps to these lost Paths shou'd guide: <br>But I lose Time, whilst I such Thoughts deride. <br>Away he goes, with Expectation chear'd, <br>But when his Course he round the World had steer'd, <br>And much had borne, and much had hop'd and fear'd, <br>Yet cou'd not be inform'd where he might find <br>This fickle Mistress of all Human-kind: <br>He quits at length the Chace of flying Game, <br>And back as to his Neighbor's House he came, <br>He there encounters the uncertain Dame; <br>Who lighting from her gaudy Coach in haste, <br>To him her eager Speeches thus addrest. <br>Fortune behold, who has been long pursu'd, <br>Whilst all the Men, that have my Splendors view'd, <br>Madly enamour'd, have such Flatt'ries forg'd, <br>And with such Lies their vain Pretensions urg'd, <br>That Hither I am fled to shun their Suits, <br>And by free Choice conclude their vain Disputes; <br>Whilst I the Owner of this Mansion bless, <br>And he unseeking Fortune shall possess. <br>Tho' rightly charg'd as something Dark of Sight, <br>Yet Merit, when 'tis found, is my Delight; <br>To Knaves and Fools, when I've some Grace allow'd, <br>'T has been like scattering Money in a Croud, <br>To make me Sport, as I beheld them strive, <br>And some observ'd (thro' Age) but Half-alive; <br>Scrambling amongst the Vigorous and Young, <br>One proves his Sword, and One his wheedling Tongue, <br>All striving to obtain me right or wrong; <br>Whilst Crowns, and Crosiers in the Contest hurl'd, <br>Shew'd me a Farce in the contending World. <br>Thou wert deluded, whilst with Ship, or Steed, <br>Thou lately didst attempt to reach my Speed, <br>And by laborious Toil, and endless Pains, <br>Didst sell thy Quiet for my doubtful Gains: <br>Whilst He alone my real Fav'rite rises, <br>Who every Thing to its just Value prizes, <br>And neither courts, nor yet my Gifts despises</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Kingsmill+Finch">Anne Kingsmill Finch</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345310" data-title="The Decision Of Fortune de Anne Kingsmill Finch" data-description="Fortune well-Pictur'd on a rolling Globe, 
With waving Locks, and thin transparent Robe, 
A Man beholding, to his Neighbor cry'd, 
Whoe'er would catch this Dame, must swiftly ride. 
Mark, how she seems to Fly, and with her bears, 
All that is wort..."></div>
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