THE FIRE-SIDE. BY NATHANIEL COTTON, M. D. * I. DEAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd, The vain, the wealthy, and the proud, Tho' fingularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we'll step afide, Nor join the giddy dance. From the gay II. world we'll oft retire To our own family and fire, Where love our hours employs; No noify neighbour enters here, No intermeddling stranger neår, To spoil our heart-felt joys. III. If folid happiness we prize, And they are fools who roam: The world has nothing to beftow, From our own felves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home. 5 io 15 IV. Of reft was Noah's dove bereft, That fafe retreat, the ark; The disappointed bird once more Explor'd the facred bark. V. Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, 25 We, who improve his golden hours, By sweet experience know, That marriage, rightly underftood, Gives to the tender and the good A paradise below. 30 VI. Our babes fhall richest comforts bring, Whence pleasures ever rife: We'll form their minds with ftudious care To all that's manly, good, and fair, And train them for the skies. VII. While they our wifeft hours engage, They'll joy our youth, fupport our age, And crown our hoary hairs: They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day, And recompenfe our cares. 35 40 VIII. No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, Or by the world forgot : Monarchs! we envy not your state, We look with pity on the great, And blefs our humbler lot. IX. Our portion is not large indeed, 45 We'll therefore relish with content XI. To be refign'd, when ills betide, And pleas'd with favours giv'n; 55 60 65 XII. We'll afk no long protracted treat, (Since winter life is feldom fweet,) But when our feaft is o'er, Grateful from table we'll arise, 70 Nor grudge our fons, with envious eyes, The relicks of our store. XIII. Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll go, Its checker'd paths of joy and woe With cautious steps we'll tread; Quit its vain scenes without a tear, Without a trouble or a fear, And mingle with the dead. 75 XIV. While Confcience, like a faithful friend, 80 And cheer our dying breath; Shall, when all other comforts cease, |