An ODE to CONTENTMENT. Mary Robinson (née Darby) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T100118 Robinson, Mary, 1758-1800. Poems by Mrs. Robinson [poems only]. London Printed for C. Parker, the Upper Part of New Bond-Street 1775 pp. 111-115. [8],134p.,plate; 8⁰.

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An ODE to CONTENTMENT . I Celestial maid , if on my way , Propitious thou wilt' deign to smile , Let virtue guide each youthful day , From malice , envy , care , and guile . II Protect my unexperienc'd youth , From ev'ry ill , from grief and pain , Inspire my heart with love and truth , Without ambition's idle claim . III Banish'd from thee , what's ev'ry joy , What's beauty , wealth , delight , or ease , Without thee all our pleasures cloy , Which nature first ordain'd to please . IV In search of thee , long time I stray'd , Amid the throng of busy life , But found , alas ! I was betray'd , For vanity's the source of strife . V I've fought thee in the myrtle shade , The silent wood , and poplar grove , I've sought thee in the lonely glade , The paths of friendship , and of love . VI Some hope to find thee in a court , In stately pomp , and vain parade , But that is not thy calm resort , Such scenes of art you ne'er invade . VII Tis not in palaces you dwell , Among the gay , and giddy croud , Nor in the hermit's lonely cell , Far distant from the great , and proud . VIII The sordid miser hopes t'explore , Thy wondrous charms in idle toys , In hoarding heaps of yellow ore , In transitory , short-liv'd joys . IX Mistaken youth , too often trys , With luxury , deceit and art , To find thee in the wanton's eyes , Which only shine t'ensnare th'heart , X Others by fickle fortune blind , To flatt'ry's mean device a prey , Vainly expect , content to find , Among the great , the rich , and gay . XI Alas ! ye blinded , thoughtless race , Contentment ye will never find , Till ye abhor deceit , and vice , And pay attention to the mind . XII In your own pow'r , alone it lies , To blend this life with joy , or care , Ambition's idle claim despise , Think yourself happy ; — and you are .