When the black-lettr'd list to the gods was presented,
The list of what Fate to each mortal intends,
At the long string of ills a kind Goddess relented
And slipt in three blessing: wife, children and friends.
In vain surly Pluto maintain'd he was cheated;
For justice divine could not compass its ends:
The scheme of man's penance he swore was defeated
For earth becomes heaven with wife, children and friends.

Though spice-breathing gales o'er his caravan hover,
Though round him Arabia's whole fragrance ascends,
The merchant still thinks of the woodbines that cover
The bow where he sat with wife, children and friends.
The day-spring of youth, still unclouded by sorrow,
Alone on itself for enjoyment depends:
But drear is the twilight of age, if it borrow
No warmth from the smiles of wife, children and friends.

When the soldier whose deeds live immortal in story,
Whom duty to far distant latitudes sends,
With transport would barter whole ages of glory,
For one happy day with wife, children and friends.
Though  vallour still glows in his life's waning embers,
The death wounded tar who his  colours defends,
Drops a tear of regret, as he, dying remembers,
How blest was his home with wife, children and friends.

Let the breath of renown ever freshen and nourish
The laurel which o'er her dead favourite bends;
O'er me wave the willow, and long may it flourish,
Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children and friends.
Let us drink, for my song, growing graver and graver,
To subjects too solemn insensibly tends;
Let us drink, pledge me high, Love and Virtue shall flavour
The glass which I fill to wife, children and friends.