Bliss unmix’d with any Woe.
The Ambitious when rais’d to the Summit of Power,
In the Midst of their Joy fear that Fortune may lower;
The Miser, who Thousands has heap’d in his Chest,
In the Midst of Riches is never at rest.
And the Heroe, whose Bosom his Glory still warms,
In the Midst of his Conquests fears the Change of his Arms.
But the Lover, whose Fondness his Hours doth employ,
In the Midst of her Charms knows no End of his Joy.
Then quit Hopes of rising,