THE Planets sure some noxious Pow'r display,
And rule my Life with arbitrary Sway;
Else had I ne'er forsook my native Home,
Nor in this baleful Desert met my Doom —
And yet, when I reflect, I cannot see,
How Globes insensible should influence me!
I chuse my Actions; when the Choice is made.
I nor invoke, nor yet consult  Aid.
When Mortals act according to their
Can Heav'n be call'd the Author of their Ill?
Too late I find, the Stars are not in Fault;
But 'tis that golden Wish my Sire has taught:
Enticing  that damn'd deceiving Guide,
Induc'd me first to stem the foaming Tide;
Fallacious  that led me from Repose,
Now leaves me in a Labyrinth of Woes.