So many a day, in life’s advance, I knew;
So they commenced, and so they ended too.
All Promise they—all Joy as they began!
But Joy grew less, and vanish’d as they ran!
Errors and evils came in many a form—
The mind’s delusion, and the passions’ storm. 120
The promised joy, that like this morning rose,
Broke on my view, then clouded at its close;
E’en Love himself, that promiser of bliss,
Made his best days of pleasure end like this: