Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 17.djvu/431



O, be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend! Not with those toys the female race admire, Riches that vex, and vanities that tire; Not as the world its petty slaves rewards, A youth of frolicks, an old age of cards; Fair to no purpose, artful to no end; Young without lovers, old without a friend; A fop their passion, bur their prize a sot; Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot! Let joy or ease, let affluence or content, And the gay conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face: Let day improve on day, and year on year, Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear; Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy, In some soft dream, or ecstasy of joy; Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb, And wake to raptures in a life to come! SONG.