Who fascinated watches, haunts, and prays,
And at the cost of troubles vast essays,
’Mid doubts and fears, a fleeting joy to gain?
Love leads him not: his breast could ne’er profane
Admit Love’s purer flame; ’tis passion’s fire
Alone that draws him, and in wild desire
He blindly headlong follows in pursuit:
And what for all his toils can he compute?
If gain’d at length, he only finds the prize
Bring death and misery ev’n in pleasure’s guise.