Ye pow'rs, thro' life may this be mine,
To taste pure Friendship, Love, and Wine,
In some lone nook where Quiet dwells--
Quiet, that heeds not Folly's bells,
But laughs at Grandeur, Wealth, and Fame,
And Envy knows but by its name.
Safe from Ambition's madd'ning glare,
I with my friend each comfort share,
And chase away the canker Care;
Whilst Emma's grace and matchless smile,
The lazy hours doth oft beguile:
Then mellow'd by the sparkling bowl,
Content I mark the seasons roll,
And with good--humour cheerful sing,
Nor heed pale Sorrow's baneful sting.

Let heroes seek the carnag'd field,
For fancied fame their life to yield;
Let thoughtless lordlings seek the court,
Where Slander, Pride, and Vice resort;
Let patriots for their country rail,
And banish'd Freedom's loss bewail;
Let sons of Commerce plow the main,
Each fancied gem for fools to gain;
Let greedy misers toil for wealth,
And blast the roseate charms of health;
Still busy, busy they may be,
Whilst I am easy, happy, free.
Free from all jealousies and fears,
Shall I make life a vale of tears,
And pine for what would cares increase?
No--let me live with humble Peace;
And, whilst I ride the stormy sea,
Heed not the slaves of high degree,
But do my duty merrily,
And taste of pleasure in my prime,
Nor mind the meddling grey--beard Time.
Tho' oft he whispers, man grows old,
In spite of fame, in spite of gold,
And tells me life is but a day,
Till forc'd to join my kindred clay,
I'll laugh and quaff the hours away;
For I with Care have nought to do--
Ye sons of wealth, he dwells with you!
And why should man for riches pine,
When blest with Friendship, Love, and Wine.