A Ballade Of Montaigne

I sit before the firelight's glow         With all the world in apogee,      And con good Master Florio         With pipe a-light; and as I see         Queen Bess herself with book a-knee,      Reading it o'er and o'er again,         Here, 'neath my cosy mantel-tree,      I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.      Now howls the wind and drives the snow;         The traveler shivers on the lea;      While, with my precious folio,         Behold a happy devotee         To book and warmth and reverie!      The blast upon the window-pane         Disturbs me not, as trouble-free,      I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.      I am content, and thus I know         A mind as calm as summer sea, -      A heart that stranger is to woe.         To happiness I hold the key         In this rare, sweet philosophy;      And while the Fates so fair ordain,         Well pleased with Destiny's decree,      I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.     ENVOY      Dear Prince! aye, more than prince to me,         Thou monarch of immortal reign!      Always thy subject I would be,         And smoke my pipe and read Montaigne!