Classic Poem

O Happiness! thou great and only end,
To which our wishes and our labours tend,
Thee still we trace through ev'ry varied maze,
Thee still we seek by thousand diff'rent ways;
Patient for thee an anxious life we spend,
Or boldly dare for thee to meet our end:
How art thou found, or in what distant land?
Can riches buy thee, or can pow'r command?
No! Happiness nought outward can bestow,
Our bliss or mis'ry from ourselves must flow;
The like events in life occur to all,
The bad oft flourish, while the virtuous fall;
Yet vice is wretched, ev'n when it succeeds,
And virtue still is happy, though it bleeds:
Approving conscience yields a secret joy,
Which fortune cannot give, nor yet destroy.
Dost thou seek happiness? to virtue true,
Th' undevious path of rectitude pursue;
Intent alone to do thy duty still,
Seek not an happy fate, nor shun an ill:
To act thy part aright to thee is giv'n;
Be this thy care,—th'event belongs to heav'n.