Classic Poem

Well, whate'er Sins by Turns have sway'd me,
Ambition never reach'd my Heart;
Its leud Pretences ne'er betray'd me,
In publick Ills to act a part.
Let others Fame or Wealth pursuing,
Despise a mean, but safe Retreat;
I'll ne'er contrive my own Undoing,
Nor stoop so low as to be Great.

The faithless Court , the tricking Change ,
What solid Pleasures can they give?
Oh let me in the Country range!
'Tis there we breathe, 'tis there we live.

The beauteous Scene of aged Mountains,
Smiling Valleys, murmuring Fountains,
Lambs in flow'ry Pastures bleating,
Eccho our Complaints repeating.
Bees with busy Sounds delighting,
Groves to gentle Sleep inviting;
Whisp'ring Winds the Poplars courting,
Swains in rusty Circles sporting;
Birds, in chearful Notes, expressing
Nature's Bounty, and their Blessing:
These afford a lasting Pleasure,
Without Guilt, and without Measure.