University of Virginia Library

MARTIAL. Book X. Epigram XLVII. Paraphras'd.

To Julius Martial.

Since, Dearest Martial, you of Me inquire,
What things we ought to seek, and what desire,
This short, yet faithful Inventory take,
Of those which Life compleatly happy make.
An unincumber'd Income, which shou'd be
Not owing to our own, but Parents Industry:
A little Farm, yet of a fertile Soil,
And not ungrateful to the Tiller's Toil:
A cleanly Hearth; a Fire which never dies,
Recruited by a neighb'ring Wood's Supplies:
A Soul Serene, with no Contentions vex'd,
And with few busy burd'ning Cares perplex'd:
A Body blest with Health, with Strength endu'd;
A Temper plain and open, but not rude:
An honest Heart, Unknowing to deceive,
Yet circumspect, nor easie to believe:
A Friendship built (as if by Heav'n design'd)
On Likeness both of Fortune and of Mind:
A Table spread with such cheap homely Fare,
As our own cultivated Gardens bear:
At Night, a mod'rate Bowl, with Nectar fraught,
T' exhilerate, not drown, the pensive Thought:
A chaste, yet chearful Wife, in whom shou'd meet
Unsulli'd Virtue with a Humour sweet:
Sound Sleep, whose kind Delusion may unite
The Shades of Ev'ning to the Morning-Light:
Peace and Contentment with our present State;
To relish Life, tho' not afraid of Fate.