Great guilt knew never joy at heart. Is happiness your point in view? (I mean the intrinsic and the true) She nor in camps or courts resides, Nor in the humble cottage hides; Yet found alike in every sphere; Who finds content, will find her there. O'erspent with toil, beneath the shade, A peasant rested on his spade. _60 'Good gods!' he cries, ''tis hard to bear This load of life from year to year. Soon as the morning streaks the skies, Industrious labour bids me rise; With sweat I earn my homely fare, And every day renews my care.' Jove heard the discontented strain, And thus rebuked the murmuring swain: 'Speak out your wants then, honest friend: Unjust complaints the gods offend. _70 If you repine at partial fate, Instruct me what could mend your state. Mankind in every station see. What wish you? Tell me what you'd be.' So said, upborne upon a cloud, The clown surveyed the anxious crowd. 'Yon face of care,' says Jove, 'behold, His bulky bags are filled with gold. See with what joy he counts it o'er! That sum to-day hath swelled his store.' _80 'Were I that man,' the peasant cried, 'What blessing could I ask beside?' 'Hold,' says the god; 'first learn to know True happiness from outward show. This optic glass of intuition---- Here, take it, view his true condition.' He looked, and saw the miser's breast, A troubled ocean, ne'er at rest; Want ever stares him in the face, And fear anticipates disgrace: _90 With conscious guilt he saw him start; Extortion gnaws his throbbing heart; And never, or in thought or dream, His breast admits one happy gleam. 'May Jove,' he cries, 'reject my prayer, And guard my life from guilt and care. My soul abhors that wretch's fate. O keep me in my humble state! But see, amidst a gaudy crowd, Yon minister, so gay and proud, _100 On him what happiness attends, Who thus rewards his grateful friends!' 'First take the glass,' the god replies: 'Man views the world with partial eyes.' 'Good gods!' exclaims the startled wight, 'Defend me from this hideous sight! Corruption, with corrosive smart, Lies cankering on his guilty heart: I see him, with polluted hand, Spread the contagion o'er the land, _110 Now avarice with insatiate jaws, Now rapine with her harpy claws His bosom tears. His conscious breast Groans, with a load of crimes oppress'd. See him, mad and drunk with power, Stand tottering on ambition's tower. Sometimes, in speeches vain and proud, His boasts insult the nether crowd; Now, seized with giddiness and fear, He trembles lest his fall is near. _120 'Was ever wretch like this?' he cries; 'Such misery in such disguise! The change, O Jove, I disavow; Still be my lot the spade and plough.' He next, confirmed by speculation, Rejects the lawyer's occupation; For he the statesman seemed in part, And bore similitude of heart.