Page:The lives of the poets of Great Britain and Ireland to the time of Dean Swift - Volume 4.djvu/255

Rh Ceaſe, tempting ſyren, ceaſe thy flattering ſtrain, Sweet is thy charming ſong, but ſung in vain: When the winds blow, and loud the tempeſts roar, What fool would truſt the waves, and quit the ſhore? Early and vain into the world I came, Big with falſe hopes and eager after fame: Till looking round me, e’er the race began, Madmen and giddy fools were all that ran. Reclaimed betimes, I from the liſts retire, And thank the Gods, who my retreat inſpire. In happier times our anceſtors were bred, When virtue was the only path to tread. Give me, ye Gods, but the ſame road to fame, Whate’er my father’s dar’d, I dare the ſame. Changed is the ſcene, ſome baneful planet rules An impious world contriv’d for knaves and fools.

Happy the man, of mortals happieſt he, Whoſe quiet mind of vain deſires is free; Whom neither hopes deceive, nor ſeats torment, But lives at peace, within himſelf content, In thought or act accountable to none But to himſelf, and to the Gods alone. O ſweetneſs of content, ſeraphic joy! Which nothing wants, and nothing can deſtroy. Where dwells this peace, this freedom of the mind? Where but in ſhades remote from human kind; In flow’ry vales, where nymphs and ſhepherds I meet, But never comes within the palace-gate. Farewel then cities, courts, and camps farewel, Welcome ye groves, here let me ever dwell. From