Натаниэль Коттон (Nathaniel Cotton)

Visions for the Entertainment and Instruction of Younger Minds: Content

Far from the city I reside,
And a thatch'd cottage all my pride.
True to my heart, I seldom roam,
Because I find my joys at home;
For foreign visits then begin
When the man feels a void within.
But tho' from towns and crowds I fly,
No humorist, nor cynic, I,
Amidst sequester'd shades I prize
The friendship of the good and wise.
Bid Virtue and her sons attend,
Tell thee I'm faithful, constant, kind,
And meek, and lowly, and resign'd;
Will say, there's no distinction known
Betwixt her household and my own.
I commune with myself at night,
And ask my heart if all be right:
If "Right" replies my faithful breast,
I smile, and close my eyes to rest.
The clergy say they love me well;
Whether they do, they best can tell:
They paint me modest, friendly, wise,
And always praise me to the skies;
But if conviction's at the heart,
Why not a correspondent part?
For shall the learned tongue prevail,
If action's preach a diff'rent tale?
Who'll seek my door, and grace my walls,
When neither dean nor prelate calls!
With those my friendships most obtain,
Who prize their duty more than gain;
Soft flow the hours whene'er we meet,
And conscious virtue is our treat;
Our harmless breasts no envy know,
And hence we fear no secret foe;
Our walks Ambition ne'er attends,
And hence we ask no pow'rful friends;
We wish the best to church and state,
But leave the steerage to the great;
Careless who rises or who falls,
And never dream of vacant stalls:
Much less, by pride or int'rest drawn,
Sigh for the mitre and the lawn.
Observe the secrets of my art,
I'll fundamental truths impart:
If you'll my kind advice pursue,
I'll quit my hut and dwell with you.
The passions are a numerous crowd,
Imperious, positive, and loud;
Curb these licentious sons of strife;
Hence chiefly rise the storms of life:
If they grow mutinous, and rave,
They are thy masters, thou their slave.
Regard the world with cautious eye,
Nor raise your expectation high.
See that the balanc'd scales be such,
You neither fear nor hope too much:
For disappointment's not the thing;
'Tis pride and passion point the sting.
Life is a sea, where storms must rise;
'Tis Folly talks of cloudless skies;
He who contracts his swelling sail,
Eludes the fury of the gale.
Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ;
Distrust embitters present joy:
On God for all events depend;
You cannot want when God's your friend.
Weigh well your part, and do your best;
Leave to your Maker all the rest.
The Hand which form'd thee in the womb,
Guides from the cradle to the tomb.
Can the fond mother slight her boy?
Can she forget her prattling joy?
Say, then, shall Sov'reign Love desert
The humble and the honest heart?
Heaven may not grant thee all thy mind;
Yet say not thou that Heaven's unkind.
God is alike both good and wise
In what he grants and what denies:
Perhaps, what Goodness gives to-day,
To-morrow, - Goodness takes away.
You say, that troubles intervene;
That sorrows darken half the scene.
True - and this consequence you see,
The world was ne'er design'd for thee:
You're like a passenger below,
That stays perhaps a night or so;
But still his native country lies
Beyond the bound'ries of the skies.
Of Heaven, - ask virtue, wisdom, health;
But never let thy pray'r be wealth.
If food be thine (tho' little gold),
And raiment to repel the cold;
Such as may Nature's wants suffice,
Not what from pride and folly rise;
If soft the motions of thy soul,
And a calm conscience crown the whole;
Add but a friend to all this store,
You can't in reason wish for more:
And if kind Heaven this comfort brings,
'Tis more than Heaven bestows on kings.

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