Great fortune I ever forswore.
The more that a man to himself shall deny,
The more he shall have from the gods;
Poor, I seek for the home of contentment, and fly
With joy from the wealthy abodes.
With my stream of pure water, few acres of wood,
And secure that my harvest will pay,
A pleasure I have more substantial than could
Be to him that o’er Afric holds sway.
Though for me never works the Calabrian bee,