From the gay world we'll oft retire Where love our hours employs : If solid happiness we prize, And they are fools who roam: The world has nothing to bestow, Of rest was Noah's dove bereft, Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours, By sweet experience know, That marriage, rightly understood, Our babes shall richest comforts bring; We'll form their minds with studious care, While they our wisest hours engage, They'll grow in virtue every day, No borrow'd joys! they are all our own, Monarchs! we envy not your state, Our portion is not large, indeed, For nature's calls are few: In this, the art of living lies, And make that little do. We'll therefore relish with content, Nor aim beyond our pow'r; For if our stock be very small, ́ "Tis prudence to enjoy it all, Nor lose the present hour. To be resign'd, when ills betide, And pleas'd with favours giv'n; Whose fragrance smells to Heav'n. We'll ask no long protracted treat, Nor grudge our sons with envious eyes, Thus hand in hand through life we'll With cautious steps we'll tread; And mingle with the dead: go, While Conscience, like a faithful friend, And cheer our dying breath; THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE. IMITATED FROM METASTASIO. [ANON.] THANKS, dear coquet! indulgent cheat! No more I sigh, and doat, and pine, Cupid no more has power to scorch, That name no more has such eclat, No more my heart goes pit-a-pat At sight of each dear feature. I sleep at night, and sometimes dream, you the fond vexatious theme; Nor I wake, nor think about you: I meet, I leave you, meet again, But feel no mighty joy or pain, Or with you, or without you. Now with indifference I chat Leave then those little torturing arts, Will neither please, nor grieve me. From those despotic looks, no more May, though you frown, looks sweetly clad; Though you stand smiling by., |