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MISCELLANEOUS SONGS.

MY

SONG I

Y mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find,

As far exceeds all earthly blifs,

That God or Nature hath affign'd: Though much I want that moft would have, Yet ftill my mind forbids to crave.

Content I live, this is my ftay;

I feek no more than may fuffice:

I prefs to bear no haughty sway;
Look what I lack my mind fupplies.
Lo! thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

VOL. II.

G

I fee

I see how plenty furfeits oft,

And hafty climbers fooneft fall: I fee that fuch as fit aloft

Mishap doth threaten moft of all: These get with toil, and keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear.

No princely pomp, nor wealthy ftore,
No force to win a victory,

No wily wit to falve a fore,

No shape to win a lovers eye; To none of these I yield as thrall, For why my mind despiseth all.

Some have too much, yet ftill they crave,
I little have yet seek no more:
They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich with little ftore:

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I lend; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at anothers lofs,

I grudge not at anothers gain;
No worldly wave my mind can tofs,
I brook that is anothers bane:
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend;
I loath not life, nor dread mine end.

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My wealth is health, and perfect eafe;
My confcience clear my chief defence:
I never feek by bribes to please,

Nor by defert to give offence:
Thus do I live, thus will I die ;
Would all did fo as well as I.

I joy not in no earthly bliss;

I weigh not Crefus' wealth a ftraw; For care, I care not what it is;

I fear not Fortunes fatal law:

My mind is fuch as may not move
For beauty bright or force of love.

I wish but what I have at will;

I wander not to seek for more;
I like the plain, I climb no hill;
In greatest storms I fit on shore,
And laugh at them that toil in vain
To get what must be loft again.

I kifs not where I wish to kill;
I feign not love where moft I hate ;
I break no fleep to win my will;
I wait not at the mightys gate;
Ifcorn no poor, I fear no rich;
I feel no want nor have too much.

The

The court, ne cart, I like ne loath;

Extremes are counted worst of all; The golden mean betwixt them both, Doth fureft fit, and fears no fall; This is my choice, for why I find

No wealth is like a quiet mind.

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No charms of youth, or beauty move
The conftant fettled breaft:
Who leaves a paffage free to love,
Shall let in all the rest.

In fuch a heart foft peace will live,
Where none of these abound;

The greatest bleffing Heaven does give,
Or can on earth be found.

O.

SONG

SONG III.

BY MR. W. BEDINGFIELD.

O hug yourself in perfect ease,

What would you wish for more than these?

A healthy, clean, paternal feat,

Well fhaded from the fummers heat.

A little parlour flove to hold

A conftant fire from winters cold,
Where you may fit, and think, and fing,
Far off from court, God bless the King!

Safe from the harpies of the law,
From party-rage, and great mans paw;
Have choice few friends of your own tafte;
A wife agreeable and chafte.

An open, but yet cautious mind,
Where guilty cares no entrance find;
Nor mifers fears, nor envys fpite,
To break the fabbath of the night.

Plain equipage, and temp'rate meals,
Few taylors, and no doctors bills;
Content to take, as Heaven fhall please,
A longer or a shorter leafe.

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