LXXXVIII — In Praise of Hope
Hope, of all ills that men endure
The only cheap and universal cure!
Thou captive’s freedom, and thou sick man’s health!
Thou loser’s victory, and thou beggar’s wealth!
Thou manna, which from heaven we eat, 5
To every taste a several meat!
Thou strong retreat, thou sure entailed estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!
Thou pleasant, honest flatterer, for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone! 10
Hope, thou first-fruits of happiness!
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success!
Thou good preparative, without which our joy
Does work too strong, and whilst it cures, destroy;
Who out of fortune’s reach dost stand, 15
And art a blessing still in hand!
Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,
We certain are to gain,
Whether she her bargain break, or else fulfil;
Thou only good, not worse for ending ill! 20
Brother of Faith, ’twixt whom and thee
The joys of Heaven and earth divided be!
Though Faith be heir, and have the fixed estate,
Thy portion yet in moveables is great.
Happiness itself’s all one 25
In thee, or in possession!
Only the future’s thine, the present his!
Thine’s the more hard and noble bliss;
Best apprehender of our joys, which hast
So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast! 30
Hope, thou sad lover’s only friend!
Thou way, that may’st dispute it with the end!
For love, I fear, ’s a fruit that does delight
The taste itself less than the smell and sight.
Fruition more deceitful is 35
Than thou canst be, when thou dost miss;
Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee
Some other way again to thee:
And that’s a pleasant country, without doubt,
To which all soon return that travel out. 40
Abraham Cowley.