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320 Why this consuming wild desire, This restless passion vague and strange? That well I know I rave, 't is 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, If soon it finds for meads and flowers, But arid wastes and tangled thorns, And soon a loathing rage overpowers The mad or mournful love it scorns? Flung as a rapid comet wide, On ardent fancy's wings I flew, Where'er my wayward mind espied Or joys or triumphs to pursue. I launched myself, in daring flight, Beyond the world through heavenward space, And found but doubt, and all so bright That seem'd, illusive proved the chase. Then on the earth I anxious sought For virtue, glory, love sublime; And my worn spirit found there nought But fetid dust and loathsome slime.