| |
| LIKE as Lybia’s burning sand, | |
| Or the parch’d Arabian plain, | |
| Which gentle Eurus never fann’d, | |
| Would drink the unfathomable main— | |
| So is the wretch who endless craves, | 5 |
| And restless pines in every state— | |
| O! place him with the worst of slaves, | |
| Whether in high or low estate; | |
| Heap him around with massy wealth, | |
| High-throne him on the seat of power; | 10 |
| Each generous joy he ’ll use by stealth, | |
| While want shall prey on every hour; | |
| Let glittering pomp allure his soul, | |
| Or nobler fame his mind dilate; | |
| Through complicated plagues he ’ll roll, | 15 |
| And dire vexations still create. | |
| The first-born mortal upon earth, | |
| When round him smiling nature play’d, | |
| With discontent was void of mirth, | |
| Though he o’er every creature sway’d. | 20 |
| |
| He who contented spends his days— | |
| Calm as the clear unruffled stream, | |
| His life in gentle current strays, | |
| Mild as the maiden’s silver dream— | |
| Be he born to till the field, | 25 |
| Or in war the sword to wield; | |
| If he o’er the midnight oil | |
| Wastes his life in learned toil, | |
| Studious to instruct mankind | |
| Where true happiness to find; | 30 |
| Or if o’er the lawless main | |
| He roams in search of sordid gain; | |
| Or sorts with nobles in proud ease, | |
| Or humble swains in cottages; | |
| Be he with content but blest— | 35 |
| He ’s the happy man confest! | |
| |
| Listen, dear Strephon, to my song— | |
| O herd not with ambitious slaves, | |
| Nor join thou with the vulgar throng— | |
| Their joys unstable as the waves. | 40 |
| Strephon, thrice blest with fruitful plains, | |
| The lover of a sapient theme; | |
| Strephon, whose sweetly soothing strains | |
| Flow gently as thy native stream— | |
| O leave the ruthless scenes of war, | 45 |
| Unfit art thou for rude alarms, | |
| Beside thy gentle Delaware, | |
| Come, Strephon, seek more pleasing charms. | |
| Here, while o’er the fertile valleys | |
| Thou shalt tuneful stray along, | 50 |
| I will make repeated sallies, | |
| To catch the transport of thy song; | |
| Then mutual joy shall swell our soul, | |
| Attendant to bright wisdom’s strain, | |
| While we shall quaff the friendly bowl, | 55 |
| Far from the noisy and the vain. | |
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