"Since fell transgression ravaged here
And reft Man's garden-joys away,
He weeps his unavailing tear,
And straggles, like a lamb astray.
"With shrilling bleat for comfort hie
To every pinfold, humankind;
Ah, there the fostering teat is dry,
The stranger mother proves unkind.
"No rest for toil, no drink for drought,
For bosom-peace the shadow's wing—
So feeds expectancy on nought,
And suckles every lying thing.
"Some woe for ever wreathes its chain,
And hope foretells the clasp undone;
Relief at handbreadth seems, in vain
Thy fetter'd arms embrace—'tis gone!
"Not all that trial's lore unlearns
Of all the lies that life betrays,
Avails, for still desire returns—
The last day's folly is to-day's.
"Thy wish has prosper'd—has its taste
Survived the hour its lust was drown'd;
Or yields thine expectation's zest
To full fruition, golden-crown'd?
"The rosebud is life's symbol bloom,
'Tis loved, 'tis coveted, 'tis riven—
Its grace, its fragrance, find a tomb,
When to the grasping hand 'tis given.
"Go, search the world, wherever woe
Of high or low the bosom wrings,
There, gasp for gasp, and throe for throe,
Is answer'd from the breast of kings.
"From every hearth-turf reeks its cloud,
From every heart its sigh is roll'd;
The rose's stalk is fang'd—one shroud
Is both the sting's and honey's fold.
"Is wealth thy lust—does envy pine
Where high its tempting heaps are piled?
Look down, behold the fountain shine,
And, deeper still, with dregs defiled!