Six favourite songs (1)/Merry and Wise

SONGS

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MERRY AND WISE.

Let who will complain of the troubles they meet,
⁠They’re matter of laughter to me;
A dash of the bitter the sweet makes more sweet,
⁠I therefore contented will be.

If Fortune looks kindly, I’ll bask in her smiles,
⁠If frowning—my comfort is still,
That life’s but a span, and good humour beguiles
⁠Tho time be it bad as it will.

My friend proves unfaithful, I’ll seek out a new,
⁠Nor trouble my head about that;
I’ll pity the changeling, I’ll honour the true,
⁠And cheerfully laugh and be fat.

What tho’ I a coach and six horses can’t have,
⁠To which I've a very good right;
A pair of good legs hath kind Providence gave,
⁠And a heart that’s both honest and light.

My frame’s not unwieldy, ’tis active and sound;
⁠My appetite not very great:
A scanty provision sufficient is found,
⁠If cleanly and wholesome to eat.

Let epicures feast on their turtles for me,
⁠Their ortolans, pheasants, and sturgeon;
With Frenchify’d dishes, high sauces, and be
⁠A prey to the doctor and surgeon.

With all kinds of wine let them pamper their taste,
⁠Nor ought to their palates deny;
If they to their latter end wilfully haste,
⁠Themselves are to blame, and not I.

On dress, pomp, and grandeur, I fix not my mind,
⁠They’re matters unworthy a care;
Beneath those fine trappings we often times find
⁠The pangs of remorse and despair.

Gay Pleasure’s a phantom exceedingly fair,
⁠Which vainly we hope to embrace;
We grasp at a substance, she melts into air,
⁠And leaves not behind her a trace.

Then why should we make such a pother about
⁠What no one could never attain,
Tho’ the sweet illusion is tempting, no doubt,
⁠Till banish’d by old age and pain.

But soon we the idle pursuit of her charms,
⁠By dear-bought experience despise,
Then blooming good humour still dwell in my arms,
⁠My motto be—merry and wise