[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
HOW happy is the rural clown,
Who, far remov’d from noise of town,
Contemns the glory of a crown,
And in his safe retreat,
Is pleased with his low degree,
Is rich in decent Poverty,
From strife from care and bus’ness free,
At once baith good and great?
–
No drums disturb his morning sleep,
He fears no danger of the deep,
Nor noisy law, nor courts ne’er heap
Vexation on his mind;
No Trumpets rouze him to the war,
No hopes can bribe, no threats can dare;
From fate intrigues he holds afar,
And liveth unconfin’d.
–
Like those in golden ages born,
He labours gently to adorn
His small paternal fields of corn,
And on their product feeds:
Each season of the wheeling year,
Industrious he improves with care;
And still some ripened fruits appear,
So well his toil succeeds.
–
Now by a silver stream he lies,
And angles with his baits and flies,
And next the silvan scene he tries,
His spirits to regal:
Now from the rock or height he views
His fleecy flock, or teeming cows,
Then tunes his reed, or tries his muse,
That waits his honest call.
–
Amidst his harmless easy joys,
No care his peace of mind destroys,
Nor does he pass his time in toys
Beneath his just regard:
He’s fond to feel the zephyr’s breez,
To plant and sned his tender trees;
And for attending well his bees,
Enjoys the sweet reward.
–
The flowry meads, and silent coves,
The scenes of faithful rural loves,
And warbling birds on blooming groves,
Afford a wish’d delight:
But O! how pleasant is this life?
Blest with a chast and virtuous wife,
And children pratling, void of strife,
Around his fire at night.
– Authors Unknown.
