Men err, and blindly happiness propose,
Whither their steps and fortunes should aspire;
Alas! they seek, what Earth no longer knows;
Once haply clasp’d, the wanton’s waxing shier;
For, now, it hath ascended to the heavens,
And sits commingling Nature’s shapes and dyes:
Who’s rash to seek it, him, ill fortune leavens
With sick acquirement of unworthy sighs:
Youth courts the sunshine to his vigorous wings;
Sees Hope, that beckons, thinks himself a God;
Rivals the lark, acting the joy it sings;
Till age desponds at Life’s too real rod:
Let youth abandon hope, and court content,
Now bliss mocks hope, then joys were blessings lent.