Why doom’d in listless stupor laid
This arid loathing still to bear?
Why this consuming wild desire,
This restless passion vague and strange?
That well I know I rave, ’tis fire,
Yet plunge in its deceitful range.
Why do I dream of love and joy,
That I am sure a lie will prove?
Why where fantastic charms decoy,
Will thus my heart delirious move,