Yes! let each rapture, dear to Nature, flee;
Close not the light of Fortune's stormy sea —
Mirth, music, friendship, Love's propitious smile,
Chase every care, and charm a little while,
Ecstatic throbs the fluttering heart employ,
And all her strings are harmoniz'd to Joy! —
But why so short is love's delighted hour?
Why fades the dew on Beautie's sweeter flow'r?
Why can no hymned charm of music heal
The sleepless woes impassion'd spirits feel?
Can fancy's fairy hands no veil create,
To hide the sad realities of fate? —