Classic Poem

BY THE SAME .

C ONTENTMENT , source of ev'ry earthly joy,
Without thee, what are riches, what is pow'r?
In vain shall grandeur, luxury, employ
Their pow'rs to please beyond the present hour.

'Tis not in courts that thou delight'st to dwell;
Contentment scorns the gilded roof of state;
But in the honest peasant's lowly cell
She lives retir'd, nor fears the storms of fate.

Parent of blooming health and gentle peace,
Thou soft companion of the guiltless breast,
When thou art absent, all our pleasures cease,
And each low care can interrupt our rest.

To thee, fair goddess, I devote these lays,
The free effusions of a youthful heart,
That scorns dissimulation's courtly praise,
The tongue of falsehood, and the pen of art.