Oh! God, methinks it were a happy…

Oh! God, methinks it were a happy lot, To be no better than a homely swain, The peaceful tenant of a little cot, The blithe companion of the vilage train!

Where cares, mistrust, and treason banish sleep, See on his glittering couch the monarch laid; While the poor swain, encircled by his sheep, Securely slumbers in the haw thorn shade:

To tend his flock, was all his worldly care; To rest and sport alternate hours were given, Save when religion claims the pause of pray'r, And meditation waste the soul to heav'n.

Unruffled flows the tenor of his day, 'Till time's white honors o'er his temple wave, And Resignation smiling, midst decay, Through Nature's path conduct him to the grave!