Complains of the Court

IN a Great Court, near a Fam'd River's side,
With Hopes of Greatness sed, I still reside;
But where to fix I ne'er shall understand,
Foll'wing what flies, and shunning what's at hand.

Others from me the Gifts of Heav'n retain,
The lucky Fool does still the Purchace gain;
At Air I grasp, and after Shadows strive,
Live for my Foes, if this be said to live.

I slight my self, love him that injures me,
And in soft Words find greatest Treachery;
I, Mortal Hatred under Smiles, behold,
And starve for want, amidst great heaps of Gold.

Now Envy's Stroaks, then Fortune's I sustain,
And want a Friend to whom I might complain;
I see th'ensuing Storm, and no Help nigh,
Grieve for one Loss, and straight another spy.