In My Cot, Tho' Small's My Store
In my Cot, tho' small's my store,
I on pleasure's lap recline,
What cou'd fortune give me more?
Laura, beauteous Laura's mine.
Hence Ambition! hence away!
Thine's an empty pleasure
Trust me that of Life's short day,
Love alone's the treasure.
War! I hate thy blood-stained wreath,
Pow'r! thy sparkling crown I scorn,
While my tranquil Cot beneath,
Mine's the wreath by lovers worn,
Laura's smiles make labour gay,
And enrapture leisure
Proving still of Life's short day,
Love alone's the treasure.