Sonnet I

NOR judge me light, tho' light at times I seem,

And lightly in the stress of fortune bear

The innumerable flaws of changeful care -

Nor judge me light for this, nor rashly deem

(Office forbid to mortals, kept supreme

And separate the prerogative of God!)

That seaman idle who is borne abroad

To the far haven by the favouring stream.

Not he alone that to contrarious seas

Opposes, all night long, the unwearied oar,

Not he alone, by high success endeared,

Shall reach the Port; but, winged, with some light breeze

Shall they, with upright keels, pass in before

Whom easy Taste, the golden pilot, steered.