Song 3

I Envy not the mighty Great ,
Those pow'rful Rulers of the State ,
Who settle Nations as they please,
And govern at th' Expence of Ease .

Far happier the Shepherd's Swain,
Who daily drudges on the Plain ,
And nightly in some humble Shed
On Rushy Pillows lays his Head.

No curs'd Ambition breaks his Rest,
No factious Wars divide his Breast:
His Flock , his Pipe , and artless Fair
Are all his Hope , and all his Care .
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