Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/220

92 And might, perhaps, have well essay'd
 * To make her gifts my own:

But when I saw the blessings shower
 * On some unworthy mind,

I left the chase, and own'd the power
 * Was justly painted blind.

I pass'd the glories which adorn
 * The splendid courts of kings,

And while the persons mov'd my scorn,
 * I rose to scorn the things.

My manhood felt a vigorous fire,
 * By love increased the more;

But years with coming years conspire
 * To break the chains I wore.

In weakness safe, the sex I see
 * With idle lustre shine;

For what are all their joys to me,
 * Which cannot now be mine?

But hold—I feel my gout decrease,
 * My troubles laid to rest,

And truths, which would disturb my peace,
 * Are painful truths at best.

Vainly the time I have to roll
 * In sad reflection flies;

Ye fondling passions of my soul!
 * Ye sweet deceits! arise.

I wisely change the scene within,
 * To things that us'd to please;

In pain, philosophy is spleen,
 * In health, 'tis only ease.