In num’rous Joys their rapid Life
The thoughtless Virgins waste,
And ev’ry Kind of Pleasure seek
With Eagerness to taste.
From Cares and Sorrow they are free,
No Thought their Minds to tire,
A vacant Life, full fraught with Bliss,
They earnestly desire.
But in the Grave they shall be laid,
By Death’s all-piercing Dart,