University of Virginia Library

Let mean ambition's vassals soar,
And gather much and grasp at more,
Disturb mankind to grace a name,
Or rise by impudence to fame;
Let swelling ostentation fix
Her pleasures in a coach and six.

Be this my wish, for this alone
Could make me happier than a throne.
—Yes—I am fix'd in my desire,
Nor shall my clambering hopes aspire;
Grant but an annual hundred pounds,
No roving wish shall pass the bounds;
Of Guinean or Peruvian ore,
Witness, ye Gods! I ask no more.
An hundred pounds a year—let's see—
'Twill keep my friend, my maid, and me.

A little house, not high nor low,
Undignified with Portico,
With chambers airy, parlour neat,
With cellars cool, and kitchen sweet,
Should shew its humble owner's mind,
Not grossly rude, though not refin'd.
To make it more delightful still,
I'd have it shelter'd with an hill,
Where through the shade of lofty trees,
Intent on honey dews, the bees
Should round my little garden fly,
And hum the note of industry.
A church hard by, and solemn bell,
Should mind me still of living well.
Sequester'd from the curious eye
Should stand my little library,
Where free my mornings might remain
From interruption, kind or vain;
There good divines should Heaven impart,
And Poets humanize the heart;
Philosophy improve the mind,
And Physic teach to aid mankind.
My closet with choice med'cines stor'd,
Should to the poor relief afford,
And still industrious would I find
Ease for the body, and the mind,
For others only learn to live,
Nor dream of riches, but to give.

My frugal board should still be spread,
With poultry which myself had fed,
Or else with fishes lately took
By angling in the neighb'ring brook;
With this and all the rest to chime,
A small desert in summer time,
Of downy peaches from the tree,
The plum, the grape, the strawberry;
The apple, and the juicy pear,
Each in their season should be there.

On such plain food, with home-made wine,
Some welcome friend should always dine,
Whose virtues and superior skill,
Should govern my unruly will;
Or social spend the harmless day,
And read, or work, or walk, or play.

Thus calm and useful would I live,
Nor dream of riches, but to give.