THE RETIREMENT. 



How oft when grief has made me fly. 



To hide me from society 



Even of my dearest friends, have I, 



In your recesses' friendly shade. 



All my sorrows open laid, 

 And my most secret woes, intrusted to your privacy ! 



X. 



Lord ! would men let me alone. 

 What an over-happy one 

 Should I think myself to be ; 

 Might I in this desert place 

 (Which most men in discourse* disgrace) 

 Live but undisturb'd and free ! 

 Here, in this despis'd recess. 



Would I, maugre winter's cold. 

 And the summer's worst excess, 

 Try to live out to sixty full years old ; " 

 And, all the while, 

 Without an envious eye 

 On any thriving under fortune's smile. 

 Contented live, and then contented die. 



Variation. 6 by their voice disgrace. 



c, c. 



* This he did not ; for he was born 1630, and died in 1687. 



