Of tragic woe feel spirits light and vain,
Distress and hope - the mind’s the body’s wear,
The man’s affliction, and the actor’s tear:
Alternate times of fasting and excess
Are yours, ye smiling children of distress.
Slaves though ye be, your wandering freedom seems,
And with your varying views and restless schemes,
Your griefs are transient, as your joys are dreams.
Yet keen those griefs - ah! what avail thy charms,
Fair Juliet! what that infant in thine arms;