Where storms of Sighs for ever blow, Where raped streams of Tears do flow, Which drown them in a Briny Floud. My Muse pronounce aloud, there's nothing Good, Nought that the World can show, Nought that it can bestow. Right, we these must hold, Who Love depose, and Homage pay to Gold. If I not judge amiss. Which a great Part of ev'ry Empire frame, And Interest in the common Father claime.
Men are possest.
Lyre the Evil Spirit chace't away. Mighty Things it does pretend, To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite, The Sweet Refection of our toylsome State. And for one Grain of Friendship that is found, Falshood and Interest do the Mass compound, Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound. Love in no Two was ever yet the same, No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame. The Lovers Sighs, and the Afflicted Tears, What e're may wound my Eyes or Ears.