I weigh not fortune’s frown or smile;
I joy not much in earthly joys;
I seek not state, I reck not style;
I am not fond of fancy’s toys:
I rest so pleased with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.

I quake not at the thunder’s crack;
I tremble not at news of war;
I swound not at the news of wrack;
I shrink not at a blazing star;
I fear not loss, I hope not gain,
I envy none, I none disdain.

I see ambition never pleased;
I see some Tantals starved in store;
I see gold’s dropsy seldom eased;
I see even Midas gape for more;
I neither want nor yet abound,—
Enough ’s a feast, content is crowned.

I feign not friendship where I hate;
I fawn not on the great (in show);
I prize, I praise a mean estate,—
Neither too lofty nor too low:
This, this is all my choice, my cheer,—
A mind content, a conscience clear.