 | Miscellanies in Prose and Verse |  |
71
The HAPPY SOLITUDE, OR THE WISHED RETIREMENT.
Fatigu'd with life, I yet methinks would live,
Free'd from the pains that fraud or folly give;
Where'er I turn, where'er direct my flight,
Folly, continual folly, meets my sight;
Man, thoughtless man, to sacred reason blind,
Obeys the dictates of his restless mind,
Ambition, vengeance, avarice conspire,
With luxury's delights, and anger's fire.
One toils for opulence, and one for fame,
To leave a fortune, or to leave a name;
Each labours restless for mistaken bliss,
All the plain road of true contentment miss;
With reason's scorn, with dignity's disgrace,
There fools contend, to fill the highest place;
There they like vapours, when exhal'd too high,
Shine glaring meteors of this lower sky;
There for a while, all dazzling they amaze,
And fright the world with their portentous blaze;
Till, having wasted all their boasted light,
They sink unpity'd to the realms of night.
Free'd from the pains that fraud or folly give;
Where'er I turn, where'er direct my flight,
Folly, continual folly, meets my sight;
Man, thoughtless man, to sacred reason blind,
Obeys the dictates of his restless mind,
Ambition, vengeance, avarice conspire,
With luxury's delights, and anger's fire.
One toils for opulence, and one for fame,
To leave a fortune, or to leave a name;
Each labours restless for mistaken bliss,
All the plain road of true contentment miss;
With reason's scorn, with dignity's disgrace,
There fools contend, to fill the highest place;
72
Shine glaring meteors of this lower sky;
There for a while, all dazzling they amaze,
And fright the world with their portentous blaze;
Till, having wasted all their boasted light,
They sink unpity'd to the realms of night.
For me, contented with an humble state,
'Twas ne'er my care, or fortune, to be great;
No pomp, no grandeur, no desire of fame,
No sordid wealth was ever yet my aim;
My highest wish, a well instructed mind,
Content with little, and to heav'n resign'd;
No passion but the noblest fill'd my breast,
And all I sought, and all I seek is rest,
Free from tumult'ous cares and busy strife,
May I enjoy the harmless sweets of life;
In rural shades, like the first fam'd abodes
Of happy men, oft visited by Gods,
There the remains of ling'ring life employ,
In holy solitude and silent joy,
No busy cares, should there my soul molest,
No past unkindness discompose my breast,
My still retreat, so pleasant, yet so low,
That all would envy, but that none should know;
Joy, peace, and love, with me should ever reign,
And true religion grace the godlike train;
There pleas'd and calm I'd look with pity down,
On those who bear th'incumb'rance of a crown.
Then, O great Arbiter of all below,
A ray of wisdom on my soul bestow,
That I may wisely Nature's works explore,
And thro' her works, may Nature's God adore;
Then with devotion fir'd I'd still address
My songs to thee, thy Providence to bless;
Thus calmly would my soul thy will await,
Nor wish a long, nor fear a shorter date;
But when death calls I'd meet him as a friend;
Thus would I live, and thus my life should end.
'Twas ne'er my care, or fortune, to be great;
No pomp, no grandeur, no desire of fame,
No sordid wealth was ever yet my aim;
My highest wish, a well instructed mind,
Content with little, and to heav'n resign'd;
No passion but the noblest fill'd my breast,
And all I sought, and all I seek is rest,
Free from tumult'ous cares and busy strife,
May I enjoy the harmless sweets of life;
In rural shades, like the first fam'd abodes
Of happy men, oft visited by Gods,
73
In holy solitude and silent joy,
No busy cares, should there my soul molest,
No past unkindness discompose my breast,
My still retreat, so pleasant, yet so low,
That all would envy, but that none should know;
Joy, peace, and love, with me should ever reign,
And true religion grace the godlike train;
There pleas'd and calm I'd look with pity down,
On those who bear th'incumb'rance of a crown.
Then, O great Arbiter of all below,
A ray of wisdom on my soul bestow,
That I may wisely Nature's works explore,
And thro' her works, may Nature's God adore;
Then with devotion fir'd I'd still address
My songs to thee, thy Providence to bless;
Thus calmly would my soul thy will await,
Nor wish a long, nor fear a shorter date;
But when death calls I'd meet him as a friend;
Thus would I live, and thus my life should end.
| Miscellanies in Prose and Verse | |