 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
193
ON CONTENTMENT.
Content, thou only Solace of the Mind,
Whom all pretend to seek, but none can find;
Tell me, O Goddess, in what foreign Seat,
Or Realm unknown remains your blest Retreat;
Where I may lull my raging Thoughts to rest,
And calm the Tempest rising in my Breast:
Say, shall I to the splendid Court repair,
And make the proudest Thoughts my darling Care;
Swell high my Soul—and now I am a God—
Bow scepter'd Slaves, obey your Sov'reign's Nod—
Content, I'll make you leave your humble Seat,
You cannot, dare not scorn me now I'm great.
Whom all pretend to seek, but none can find;
Tell me, O Goddess, in what foreign Seat,
Or Realm unknown remains your blest Retreat;
Where I may lull my raging Thoughts to rest,
And calm the Tempest rising in my Breast:
Say, shall I to the splendid Court repair,
And make the proudest Thoughts my darling Care;
Swell high my Soul—and now I am a God—
Bow scepter'd Slaves, obey your Sov'reign's Nod—
Content, I'll make you leave your humble Seat,
You cannot, dare not scorn me now I'm great.
194
Thus rav'd a Fool, when lo! stupendous Sight!
A Nymph appear'd array'd in mantling Light;
Bright was her Aspect, yet serenely mild,
While thus she spoke, and as she spoke she smil'd.
A Nymph appear'd array'd in mantling Light;
Bright was her Aspect, yet serenely mild,
While thus she spoke, and as she spoke she smil'd.
Forbear, vain Man, to seek Contentment here,
Vain are your Hopes, and barren is your Care:
Believe no Fortune can so high aspire,
But proud, ambitious Thoughts are always higher:
What tho' you reign proud Tyrant of the East,
Yet Care, a greater Tyrant, rules your Breast;
You, with a Nod, the suppliant World command,
Yet cannot rule that little Empire, Man.
Hope not in Wealth to find Contentment here,
“For he that gathers Riches, gathers Care.
Then curb this curst Ambition—dare be Poor,
And find a richer in a poorer Store.
Go, vain mistaken Man, if you would find
That golden Ore, Contentment of the Mind,
Depart from all these busy Ills of Life
And live exempt from Pride, and Noise and Strife,
From all the griping Bonds of Usury,
From all the wicked Ills of Money free,
Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.
Vain are your Hopes, and barren is your Care:
Believe no Fortune can so high aspire,
But proud, ambitious Thoughts are always higher:
What tho' you reign proud Tyrant of the East,
Yet Care, a greater Tyrant, rules your Breast;
You, with a Nod, the suppliant World command,
Yet cannot rule that little Empire, Man.
Hope not in Wealth to find Contentment here,
“For he that gathers Riches, gathers Care.
Then curb this curst Ambition—dare be Poor,
And find a richer in a poorer Store.
Go, vain mistaken Man, if you would find
That golden Ore, Contentment of the Mind,
195
And live exempt from Pride, and Noise and Strife,
From all the griping Bonds of Usury,
From all the wicked Ills of Money free,
Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.
She said—and vanish'd in a Flood of Light,
Unto her blest Abodes, and left my Sight.
Unto her blest Abodes, and left my Sight.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |