Thus fears the man whom virtue, beacon-like, <br />Hath fix'd upon the hills of eminence; <br />At him the tempests of mad envy strike, <br />And rage against his piles of innocence; <br />But still, the more they wrong him, and the more <br />They seek to keep his worth from being known, <br />They daily make it greater than before, <br />And cause his fame the further to be blown. <br />When, therefore, no self-doting arrogance, <br />But virtues cover'd with a modest veil, <br />Break through obscurity, and thee advance <br />To place where envy shall thy worth assail, <br />Discourage not thyself, but stand the shocks <br />Of wrath and fury. Let them snarl and bite, <br />Pursue thee with detraction, slander, mocks, <br />And all the venom'd engines of despight. <br />Thou art above the malice; and the blaze <br />Of thy celestial fire shall shine so clear, <br />That their besotted souls thou shalt amaze, <br />And make thy splendours to their shame appear.<br /><br />George Wither<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-virtuous-man/
