When the black letter'd list to the gods was presented—
A list of what Fate for each mortal intends:
At the long string of ills a kind angel relented,
And slipp'd in three blessings—wife, children, and friends!
In vain surly Pluto declared he was cheated,
For Justice divine could not compass her ends:
The scheme of man's folly, he said, was defeated,
For earth became heav'n with wife, children, and friends!
If the stock of our bliss is in strangers' hands vested,
The fund ill secured oft in bankruptcy ends;
But the heart issues bills that are never protested,
When drawn on the firm of wife, children, and friends!
The soldier, whose deeds live immortal in story,
Whom duty to far distant latitudes sends,
With transports would barter whole ages of glory,
For one happy hour with wife, children, and friends!
But valor still glows in life's waning embers;
The death-wounded tar, who his colours defends,
Drops a tear of regret as he dying remembers
How blest was his home with wife, children, and friends!
Though the spice-breathing gales o'er his caravan hovers,
While 'round him the fragrance of Arabia descends,
Yet the merchant still thinks on the woodbine that covers
The bow'r where he sat with wife, children, and friends.
The dayspring of youth still unclouded by sorrow,
Alone on itself for enjoyment depends;
But dreary's the twilight of age when it borrows
No warmth from the smiles of wife, children, and friends!
Let the breath of renown ever freshen and nourish
The Laurel that o'er his fair favourite bends;
O'er me wave the Willow, and long may it flourish,
Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children, and friends!
