Thus have I long in th'air of Error hovered, And run my ship upon Repentance's shelf. Truth hath the veil of Ignorance uncovered, And made me see; and seeing, know myself. Of former follies, now, I must repent, And count this work, part of my time ill spent. IV. What thing is LOVE? "A tyrant of the Mind!" "Begot by heat of Youth; brought forth by Sloth; Nursed with vain Thoughts, and changing as the wind!" "A deep Dissembler, void of faith and troth!" "Fraught with fond errors, doubts, despite, disdain, And all the plagues that earth and hell contain!" V. Like to a man that wanders all the day Through ways unknown, to seek a thing of worth, And, at the night, sees he hath gone astray; As near his end, as when he first set forth: Such is my case, whose hope untimely crost, After long errors, proves my labour lost. VI. Failed of that hap, whereto my hope aspired, Deprived of that which might have been mine own: Another, now, must have what I desired; And things too late, by their events are known. Thus do we wish for that cannot be got; And when it may, then we regard it not. VII. Ingrateful LOVE! since thou hast played thy part! (Enthralling him, whom Time hath since made free) It rests with me, to use both Wit and Art, That of my wrongs I may revenged be: And in those eyes, where first thou took'st thy fire! Thyself shalt perish, through my cold desire. VIII. "Grieve not thyself, for that cannot be had! And things, once cureless, let them cureless rest!" "Blame not thy fortune, though thou deem it bad! What's past and gone will never be redrest." "The only help, for that cannot be gained, Is to forget it might have been obtained." IX. How happy, once, did I myself esteem! While Love with Hope, my fond Desire did cherish: My state as blissful as a King's did seem, Had I been sure my joys should never perish. "The thoughts of men are fed with expectation." "Pleasures themselves are but imagination." X. Why should we hope for that which is to come, Where the event is doubtful, and unknown? Such fond presumptions soon receive their doom, When things expected we count as our own; Whose issue, ofttimes, in the end proves nought But hope! a shadow, and an idle thought. XI. In vain do we complain our life is short, (Which well disposed, great matters might effect) While we ourselves, in toys and idle sport, Consume the better part without respect. And careless (as though time should never end it) 'Twixt sleep, and waking, prodigally spend it. XII.