The Happy Life

We'll purge, my friend, the humors that still devour
Our life — the love of money, the love of power.
In wisdom let us strive to fashion
Souls that are free of the heats of passion.

We'll drive out care, be deaf to ambition's call,
And learn to live content with our little all.
If once the soul win calm of feeling,
Surely the body will need no healing.

But souls oppressed with hunger of worldly gain
Will grow obscure and darken the reason's reign.
A little smoke when care doth slacken
Quickly sufficeth the house to blacken.

Great riches won, and riches to win once more,
Are hoards of care on care in a heaped-up store;
What end shall serve such toilsome questing,
Leaving us never the time for resting?

From out my fancy's tablets I'll raze all trace
Of this enticing world with its shameless face,
To joy of song a free heart bringing
Oft as the Muses may ask my singing.

Be this the only object of my desire.
No more to worldly gain shall my heart aspire
Nor vainly be with hope tormented.
This is my kingdom — to live contented.