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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Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.
Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.
I would do what I pleased, and doing what I pleased, I should
have my will, and having my read more
I would do what I pleased, and doing what I pleased, I should
have my will, and having my will, I should be contented; and when
one is contented, there is no more to be desired; and when there
is no more to be desired, there is an end of it.
What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives read more
What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and read more
In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.
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.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more
Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
