Content, thou mild and cheerful guest,
Gay sunshine of the human breast,
Why dost thou fly this humble shed,
And leave me mourning pleasures fled?
When Youth enjoy'd his faery reign,
And Sorrow trac'd my steps in vain,
Then I life's glitt'ring prospect view'd,
And Virtue sought among the crowd,
Nor dreamt that she, coy maid, would dwell
In cottage lowly near the silent dell.

Companion of life's joyous hours,
With thee I sought the peaceful bowers,
When Summer bade her flow'rets bloom,
And hawthorns lent a rich perfume:
On Eden's mazy banks we stray'd,
And Nature's various scenes survey'd;
The scatter'd hamlets, winding vales;
The straying flocks, the verdant dales;
The lucid stream that roll'd along
Responsive to the blackbird's evening song:

But now the sportive hours are flown,
And I no more thy influence own;
The prospects that could once delight
Have vanish'd from my longing sight,
And left me wand'ring 'mid the storm,
My course scarce able to perform.
Ah, life of life! thy loss I mourn,
But dare not hope thy sweet return;
For oft Reflection tells this truth,
That gay Content is but the friend of youth.