Ah! heed her not. See her to rob thee stand
Ev’n of the happiness now in thy hand.
’Tis not of her; she cannot it bestow:
She makes men fortunate;—but happy? No.
Thou think’st it strange! Dost thou the names confound
Of Fortune with felicity as bound?
Like the poor idiots, who so foolish gaze
On the vain gifts and joys which she displays,
So cunning to exchange for real good.
O cheat of human wisdom! say withstood,