In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.
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Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither read more
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content;
In thought, or act, accountable to none
But to himself, and to the gods alone.
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing read more
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing hand what is sufficient for his
wants.
[Lat., Multa petentibus
Desunt multa; bene est cui deus obtulit
Parca quod satis est manu.]
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn read more
There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn to night;
No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,--
"I care for nobody, not I,
If no one cares for me."
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
read more
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudent to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?
Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?
