THE TEMPEST (Cont.)
Now once more on Joy's we're thinking,
Since kind Heav'n has sav'd our Lives;
Come, the Can, Boys, let's be drinking
To our Sweet Hearts, and our Wives:
Fill it up, about Ship wheel it,
Close to the Lips a Brimmer join;
There's the Tempest now, who feels it,
All our Fears are drown'd in Wine.
Love's a dream of mighty treasure,
Which in fancy we possess;
In the folly lies the pleasure,
Wisdom always makes it less.
When we think, by passion heated,
We a goddess have in chase,
Like Ixion, we are cheated,
And a gaudy cloud embrace.
Happy only is the lover,
Whom his mistress well deceives;
Seeking nothing to discover
He, contented, lives at ease.
But the wretch, that must be knowing
What the fair-ones would disguise,
Labours for his own undoing,
Changing happy to be wise.