The happiest Man that ever breath'd on Earth,
With all the Glories of Estate and Birth,
Had yet some anxious Care to make him know
No Grandeur was above the reach of Woe.
To be from all things that disquiet, free,
Is not consistent with Humanity.
Youth, Wit, and Beauty, are such charming things,
O'er which, if Affluence spreads her gaudy Wings,
We think the person, who enjoys so much,
No Care can move, and no Affliction touch.
Yet could we but some secret Method find
To view the dark Recesses of the Mind,
We there might see the hidden Seeds of Strife,
And Woes in Embryo rip'ning into Life;
How some fierce Lust, or boist'rous Passion, fills
The lab'ring Spirit with prolific Ills
Pride, Envy, or Revenge, distract his Soul,
And all Right-reason's Godlike Pow'rs controul.
But if she must not be allow'd to sway
Tho' all without, appears serene and gay,
A cank'rous Venom on the Vitals preys,
And poisons all the Comforts of his Days.