The following stanzas are more than two 

hundred and sixty years old. They were written by Robert Southwell: 

Conscience is my crown, 

Contented thoughts my rest; 

My heart is happy in itself, 

My bliss is in my breast

My wishes are but few,

All easy to fulfill; 

I make the limits of my power

The bounds unto my will.

I fear no care of gold,

Well-doing is my wealth; 

My mind to me an empire is,

While grace affordeth health.

I clip high climbing thoughts 

The wings of swelling pride;

Their fall is worst that from the height 

Of greatest honors slide.

YI 1879