Such is the world Lorenzo’s wisdom woos,

And on its thorny pillow seeks repose;

A pillow, which, like opiates ill prepared,

Intoxicates, but not composes; fills

The visionary mind with gay chimeras,

All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest; 70

What unfeign’d travel, and what dreams of joy!

How frail, men, things! how momentary, both!

Fantastic chase of shadows hunting shades!

The gay, the busy, equal though unlike;