For Gyges, the rich king, wicked and great, Presumed at wise Apollo’s Delphic seat, Presumed to ask, “O thou, the whole world’s eye, Seest thou a man that happier is than I?” The god, who scorned to flatter man, replied, “Aglaüs happier is.” But Gyges cried, In a proud rage, “Who can that Aglaüs be? We have heard as yet of no such king as he.” And true it was, through the whole earth around No king of such a name was to be found. “Is some old hero of that name alive, Who his high race does from the gods derive? Is it some mighty general that has done Wonders in fight, and god-like honours won? Is it some man of endless wealth?” said he; “None, none of these: who can this Aglaüs be?” After long search, and vain inquiries passed, In an obscure Arcadian vale at last (The Arcadian life has always shady been) Near Sopho’s town (which he but once had seen) This Aglaüs, who monarchs’ envy drew, Whose happiness the gods stood witness to, This mighty Aglaüs was labouring found, With his own hands, in his own little ground. So, gracious God (if it may lawful be, Among those foolish gods to mention Thee), So let me act, on such a private stage, The last dull scenes of my declining age; After long toils and voyages in vain, This quiet port let my tossed vessel gain; Of heavenly rest this earnest to me lend, Let my life sleep, and learn to love her end. Blest p. 103THE GARDEN p. 103 To J. Evelyn, Esquire. I never had any other desire so strong, and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life only to the culture of them and the study of nature. never And there (with no design beyond my wall) whole and entire to lie, In no unactive ease, and no unglorious poverty. Or, as Virgil has said, shorter and better for me, that I might there studiis florere ignobilis otii, though I could wish that he had rather said Nobilis otii when he spoke of his own. But several accidents of my ill fortune have disappointed me hitherto, and do still, of that felicity; for though I have made the first and hardest step to it, by abandoning all ambitions and hopes in this world, and by retiring from the noise of all business and almost company, yet I stick still
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