SONG IV.

BY MRS. PILKINGTON.

Envy not the proud their wealth,
Their equipage and state;

Give me but innocence and health
I afk not to be great.

I in this fweet retirement find
A joy unknown to kings,
For fcepters to a virtuous mind,
Seem vain and empty things.

Great Cincinnatus at his plough,
With brighter luftre shone,
Than guilty Cæfar e'er could fhew,
Though feated on a throne.

Tumultuous days, and reftless nights,

Ambition ever knows,

A ftranger to the calm delights

Of study and repofe.

Then free from envy, care, and strife,

Keep me, ye powers divine;

And pleas'd, when ye demand my life,
May I that life refign.

SONG

SONG V.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

BY SIR HENRY WOTTON.

row happy is he born and taught,

HOW

That ferveth not anothers will;

Whofe armour is his honeft thought,
And fimple truth his utmost skill.

Whofe paffions not his masters are,
Whose foul is ftill prepar'd for death;
Untied unto the world by care

Of publick fame, or private breath.

Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice hath ever understood;
How deepest wounds are given by praise,
Nor rules of ftate, but rules of good.

Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his ftrong retreat:
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppreffors great.

Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend:
And entertains the harmless day

With a religious book or friend.

This man is freed from fervile hands,

Of hope to rife, or fear to fall: Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.

SONG VI.

BY HILDEBRAND JACOB ESQ.

Envy not the mighty great,

Those powerful rulers of the state, Who fettle nations as they please, And govern at th' expence of ease.

Far happier the fhepherds fwain,
Who daily drudges on the plain,
And nightly in some humble shed
On rufhy pillows lays his head.

No curs'd ambition breaks his reft,
No factious wars divide his breaft:
His flock, his pipe, and artlefs fair,
Are all his hope, and all his care.

WHA

SONG VII.

HAT man in his wits, had not rather be poor,
Than for lucre his freedom to give?

Ever bufy the means of his life to fecure,

And fo ever neglecting to live?

Inviron'd

Inviron'd from morning to night in a croud,
Not a moment unbent, or alone:

Conftrain'd to be abject, though never so proud,
And at every ones call but his own :

Still repining and longing for quiet each hour,
Yet ftudiously flying it ftill;

With the means of enjoying his wish in his pow'r,
But accurft with his wanting the will.

For a year must be past, or a day must be come,
Before he has leifure to reft:

He must add to his ftore this, or that, pretty fum;
And then will have time to be bleft.

But his gains, more bewitching the more they increase,
Only fwell the defire of his eye:

Such a wretch let mine enemy live, if he please;
Let not even mine enemy die.

SONG VIII.

N°

Ambition is nothing to me;

The one thing I beg of kind Heaven to grant,
Is a mind independent and free.

With paffions unruffled, untainted with pride,
By reafon my life let me fquare;

The wants of my nature are cheaply fupplied,
And the rest are but folly and care.

The

The bleffings which Providence freely has lent,
I'll justly and gratefully prize;

Whilft fweet meditation, and chearful content,
Shall make me both healthful and wife.

In the pleasures the great mans poffeffions difplay,
Unenvied I'll challenge my part;

For every fair object my eyes can furvey,
Contributes to gladden my heart.

How vainly, through infinite trouble and strife,
The many their labours employ !

Since all that is truly delightful in life
Is what all, if they please, may enjoy.

SONG IX.

OME hoift up Fortune to the skies,

SOME

Others debafe her to a bubble:

I nor her frowns nor favours prize,

Nor think the changeling worth my trouble.

If at my door fhe chance to light,

I civilly my guest receive;
The vifit paid, I bid good night;

Nor murmur when she takes her leave.

Though profperous gales my canvas croud,
Though fmooth the waves, ferene the sky,
I truft not calms; they ftorms forebode,

And speak th' approaching tempeft nigh.