Till their hearts kindle with divine delight:
For all their thoughts, like angels, seen of old
In Israel’s dream, come from, and go to, heaven.
Hence are they studious of sequester’d scenes;
While noise, and dissipation, comfort thee.
Were all men happy, revellings would cease, 950
That opiate for inquietude within.
Lorenzo! never man was truly blest,
But it composed, and gave him such a cast,
As folly might mistake for want of joy.