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Tumultuous days, and restless nights,

Ambition ever knows,
A stranger to the calm delights

Of study and repose.

Then free from envy, care, and strife,

Keep me, ye powers divine;
And pleas'd, when ye demand my life,

May I that life resign.

SONG

SONG V.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

BY SIR HENRY WOTTON.

H
row happy is he born and taught,

That serveth not anothers will ;
Whose armour is his honest thought,

And simple truth his utmost kill.

Whose passions not his masters are,

Whose soul is still 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 fate, but rules of good.

Who hath his life from rumours freed,

Whose conscience is his strong retreat : Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruin make oppressors 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.

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This man is freed from servile hands,

Of hope to rise, or fear to fall: Lord of himself, though not of lands,

And having nothing, yet hath all.

s 0 N G VI.

BY HILDEBRAND JACOB ESQ.

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I
Envy not the mighty great,

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

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Far happier the shepherds swain,
Who daily drudges on the plain,
And nightly in some humble shed
On ruhy pillows lays his head.

No curs'd ambition breaks his rest,
No factious wars divide his breast :
His flock, his pipe, and artless fair,
Are all his hope, and all his care,

SONG VII.

WHA

THAT man in his wits, had not rather be poot,

Than for lucre his freedom to give ? Ever busy the means of his life to secure,

And so ever neglecting to live ?

Inviron'd

Inviron'd from morning to night in a croud,

Not a moment unbent, or alone :
Constrain’d to be abject, though never so proud,

And at every ones call but his own :

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Still repining and longing for quiet each hour,

Yet studiously flying it still;
With the means of enjoying his with 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 leisure to rest :
He must add to his store this, or that, pretty sum ;

And then will have time to be bleft.

But his gains, more bewitching the more they increase,

Only swell the desire of his eye:
Such a wretch let mine enemy live, if he please ;
Let not even mine

enemy

die.

SONG VIII.
N° glory I covet, no riches I want,

Ambition is nothing to me;
The one thing I beg of kind Heaven to grant,

Is a mind independent and free.

With passions unruffled, untainted with pride,

my

life let me square ;
The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied,

And the rest are but folly and care.

By reason

The

The blessings which Providence freely has lent,

I'll juftly and gratefully prize;
Whilst sweet meditation, and chearful content,

Shall make me both healthful and wise.

In the pleasures the great mans possessions display,

Unenvied I'll challenge my part;
For every fair object my eyes can survey,

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.

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OME hoist up Fortune to the skies,

Others debase her to a bubble : I nor her frowns nor favours prize,

Nor think the changeling worth my trouble.

If at my door she chance to light,

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

Nor murmur when she takes her leave.

Though prosperous gales my canvas croud,

Though smooth the waves, serene the sky, I trust not calms; they storms forebode,

And speak th' approaching tempest nigh.

Then

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