To whom the winged god with gracious look,
Numberless sweets diffusing while he spoke,
Thus answer'd kind — These happy gardens lie
Far hence remov'd, beneath a milder sky;
Their name — The kingdom of Felicity.
Sweet scenes of endless bliss, enchanted ground,
A soil for ever sought, but seldom found;
Tho' in the search all human kind in vain
Weary their wits, and waste their lives in pain.
In diff'rent parties, diff'rent paths they tread,
As reason guides them, or as follies lead;
These wrangling for the place they ne'er shall see,
Debating those, if such a place there be;
But not the wisest, nor the best can say
Where lies the point, or mark the certain way.
Some few, by Fortune favour'd for her sport,
Have sail'd in sight of this delightful port;
In thought already seiz'd the bless'd abodes,
And in their fond delirium rank'd with gods.
Fruitless attempt! all avenues are kept
By dreadful foes, sentry that never slept.
Here fell Detraction darts her pois'nous breath
Fraught with a thousand stings, and scatters death;
Sharp-sighted Envy there maintains her post,
And shakes her flaming brand, and stalks around the coast.
These on the helpless bark their fury pour,
Plunge in the waves, or dash against the shore;
Teach wretched mortals they were doom'd to mourn,
And ne'er must rest but in the silent urn.