The Just the righteous man is brave
Nor to himselfe nor none a Slave
The giddy mob his Soull disdaines
The frownes of tyrants he contemns
Firme to his purpose bravely Stands
Unmovd by their unjust commands
When Angry Auster mows the main
An unmov'd Courage he'll retaine
And in those Stormes that rouze the Deep
A firme unshaken mind he'll keep
Nor is't in natures power to make
His Just his righteous Soull to Shake
Nay Jove himselfe Should he discend
In thunder cannot make him bend
From his Just purpose no let all
Thats made to Instant ruine fall
He'd Sing at natures funerall.