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Poem	For sake of these two splendours do the wise Set store on riches, & for these alone: For these two glories only do they prize Power & majesty of kingly throne: Or this: to succour friendship in distress, To comfort humble sorrow, nor despise To cheer the joyless heart of weariness, To guard & aid whom fortune doth oppress That he to life’s glad kingdom be restor’d (& thus their monument of thanks they raise More high than pomp’s vain pinnacle of praise), Or this: to forge therefrom a trenchant sword Whereat shall poltroon evil cower & fly, & smite Hell’s fiends of foulness that they die.
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