a violence not to be described, and a noise like the discharge of innumerable batteries of heavy guns.  The darkness of the night, the roaring of the wind and sea, and the dashing of the waves and ice against the rocks, filled the travellers with sensations of awe and horror, so as almost to deprive them of the power of utterance.  They stood overwhelmed with astonishment at their miraculous escape, and even the heathen Esquimaux expressed gratitude to God for their deliverance.

[Note:  But high above desert renowned = Let it be renowned high above desert.]

* * * * *

       A HAPPY LIFE.

       How happy is he born or taught,
          That serveth not another’s will;
       Whose armour is his honest thought,
          And simple truth his highest skill.

       Whose passions not his masters are;
          Whose soul is still prepared for death;
       Not tied unto the world with care
          Of prince’s ear, or vulgar breath.

       Who hath his life from rumours freed;
          Whose conscience is his strong retreat: 
       Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
          Nor ruin make oppressors great.

       Who envies none whom chance doth raise,
          Or vice:  who never understood
       How deepest wounds are given with praise;
          Nor rules of state, but rules of good.

Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a well-chosen book or friend.

This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

SIR HENRY WOTTON.

[Notes:  Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639).  A poet, ambassador, and miscellaneous writer, in the reign of James I.

Born or taught = whether from natural character or by training.

Nor ruin make oppressors great = nor his ruin, &c.

How deepest wounds are given with praise.  How praise may only cover some concealed injury.]

* * * * *

       MAN’S SERVANTS.

          For us the winds do blow;
       The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. 
          Nothing we see but means our good,
          As our delight, or as our treasure: 
       The whole is either cupboard of our food,
          Or cabinet of pleasure.

          The stars have us to bed;
       Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws;
          Music and light attend our head;
          All things unto our flesh are kind
       In their descent and being; to our mind
          In their ascent and cause.

          More servants wait on Man
       Than he’ll take notice of.  In every path
          He treads down that which doth befriend him,
          When sickness makes him pale and wan. 
       O mighty love!  Man is one world, and hath
          Another to attend him.