Song: An Eye of Looking Back Were Well

Mer. An eye of looking back were well,
Or any murmur that would tell
Your thoughts, how you were sent,
And went
To walk with Pleasure, not to dwell.
These, these are hours by Virtue spared,
Herself, she being her own reward.
But she will have you know,
That though
Her sports be soft, her life is hard.
You must return unto the Hill,
And there advance
With labour, and inhabit still
That height and crown,
From whence you ever may look down
Upon triumph'd chance.
She, she it is in darkness shines,
'Tis she that still herself refines,
By her own light to every eye;
More seen, more known, when Vice stands by:
And though a stranger here on earth,
In heaven she hath her right of birth.
There, there is Virtue's seat:
Strive to keep her your own;
'Tis only she can make you great,
Though place here make you known.