Builds in his copfe a favourite bench, And a third butcher's bill, and brewing, For children fresh expences yet, And Dicky now for school is fit. 66 Why did I fell my college life (He cries) for benefice and wife? "Return, ye days! when endless pleasure "When calm around the common room My thoughts no chrift'ning dinner croft, "No children cry'd for butter'd toast; "And ev'ry night I went to bed, "Without a Modus in my head !" Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart! Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art; A dupe A dupe to follies yet untry'd, And fick of pleasures, scarce enjoy'd! The D FIRES ID E. By Dr. COTTON. I. EAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd, Tho' fingularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we'll step afide, II. From the gay world we'll oft retire Where love our hours employs ; No noify neighbour enters here, To fpoil our heart-felt joys, III. IF If folid happiness we prize, And they are fools who roam: The world has nothing to beftow, From our own selves our joys must flow, IV. Of reft was Noah's dove bereft, V. Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, That marriage rightly understood,' VI. Our babes fhall richest comforts bring, We'll form their minds with ftudious care, And train them for the kies. VII. While VII. While they our wifeft hours engage, And recompenfe our cares. No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, Monarchs! we envy not your state, We look with pity on the great, IX. Our portion is not large indeed, For Nature's calls are few! In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may fuffice, And make that little do. X. We'll therefore relish with content Whate'er kind Providence has fent, Nor aim beyond our pow'r; For if our ftock be very small, 'Tis prudence to enjoy it all, Nor lofe the prefent hour, XI. To be refign'd, when ills betide, And pleas'd with favours giv'n; Whose fragrance smells to heav'n. We'll afk no long protracted treat, (Since winter life is feldom fweet ;) But when our feaft is o'er, Grateful from table we'll arise, Nor grudge our fons with envious eyes, The relicks of our store. XIII. Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll Its checker'd paths of joy and woe go, With cautious fteps we'll tread ; And mingle with the dead. While Confcience, like a faithful friend, Shall, thro' the gloomy vale attend, And cheer our dying breath; And smooth the bed of death. |