CONTENTATION 



Directed to my dear Father and most worthy Friend, 

 MR. ISAAC WALTON. 



i. 

 HBAV'H, what an age is this ! what race 



Of giants is sprung np, that dare 

 Thus fly in the Almighty's face, 



And with his providence make war ! 



n. 

 1 can go no where bat I meet 



With malecontents and mutineers ; 

 As if, in life, was nothing sweet, 



And we must blessings reap in tear*. 



ill* 



O senseless man 1 that murmurs still 

 For happiness ; and does not know, 



Even though he might enjoy his will, 

 What he would have to make him so. 



Is it true happiness to be, 

 By undiscerning fortune, plac'd 



In the most eminent degree, 

 Where few arrive, and none stand fast? 



Titles and wealth are fortune's toils, 

 Wherewith the vain themselves ensnare ; 



The great are proud of borrow'd spoils, 

 The miser's plenty breeds his care : 



VI. 



The one supinely yawns to rest, 



Th' other eternally doth toil : 

 Each of them equally a beast, 



A pamperM horse, or lab'ring moil. 



VII. 



The tit ,,i,i,i,> 's oft dhgrac'd, 



By public hate, or private frown ; 



And he whose hand the creature rais'd, 

 Has yet a foot to kick him down. 



S 2 



