University of Virginia Library

CONTENT.

Happy the man, and only he,
Who, from repining ever free,
Enjoys the little he has got,
Unenvious of his neighbour's lot;
Who never sighs for empty state,
Nor impiously repines at Fate
Because it has not made him great.
What tho' compell'd to work and toil;
To wield the quill, or turn the soil?
O'er Coke to kill his tedious hours,
Or range in shrubberies, fruits and flowers?
Or, on the small or greater stage,
Act the feign'd king or real page?
'Tis from the heart that peace must flow:
Content is ever free from woe.
And he, who in a cottage lies,
Finds sleep as fond to kiss his eyes,
Enjoys a slumber as profound
(And sweeter far 'tis often found)
As he who, lull'd in downy state,
Sleeps in the chambers of the great.
For not the pompous room nor bed
Kills care, or cures the aching head,
When virtue from the heart is fled.
Nor, when the conscience is at rest,
Can Poverty disturb the breast;
Unless indeed, with frown severe,
Captivity and Want appear.
For if the plain and frugal board
A simple, wholesome joint afford,
Hunger will better sauce provide
Than for luxurious, pamper'd pride,
In China or much injur'd Ind',
The sons of commerce ere could find;
And sparkling amber can impart
More pleasure to the tranquil heart,
Than, to the care-fill'd wealthy man,
Or Burgundy or claret can.
Then to my pray'r good Heav'n be kind,
And grant me—a contented mind,
A grateful and an honest heart:
And riches where thou wilt impart;
I ask them not: for rich or poor,
If happy, what can man have more?