Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream,
In silent happiness I rest unknown;
Content with what I am, not what I seem,
I live for delia, and myself alone.
Ah foolish man! who thus of her possest,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind,
And if his outward trappings spoke him blest,
Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind.
X.
With her I scorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor trust to happiness that's not our own,
The smile of fortune might suspicion raise,
But here, I know, that I am lov'd alone.
XI.
stanhope, in wisdom, as in wit divine,
May rise, and plead Britannia's glorious cause,
With steady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly sense the deep attention draws:
XII.
Let stanhope speak his list'ning country's wrong,
My humble voice shall please one partial maid,
For her alone, I pen my tender song,
Securely sitting in his friendly shade.
XIII.