On the swift circle of returning toys,
Whirl’d, straw-like, round and round, and then engulf’d,
Where gay delusion darkens to despair!
“This is a beaten track.”—Is this a track
Should not be beaten? Never beat enough,
Till enough learn’d the truths it would inspire. 100
Shall Truth be silent, because Folly frowns?
Turn the world’s history; what find we there,
But Fortune’s sports, or Nature’s cruel claims,
Or Woman’s artifice, or Man’s revenge,