Nathaniel Cotton. 1707-1788.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
The Fireside. Stanza 3.
To be resign'd when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deni'd,
And pleas'd with favours given,—
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part;
This is that incense of the heart[362:1]
Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
The Fireside. Stanza 11.
Thus hand in hand through life we 'll go;
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we 'll tread.
The Fireside. Stanza 31.
Yet still we hug the dear deceit.
Content. Vision iv.
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
To-morrow.