Pleasure

How vain a thought is bliss below!
'Tis all an airy dream!
How empty are the joys that flow
On pleasure's smiling stream!

Now gaily-painted bubbles rise
With varied colours bright!
They break, the short amusement flies—
Can this be call'd delight?

Transparent now, and all serene,
The gentle current flows:
While fancy draws the flattering scene,
How fair the landscape shows!

But soon its transient charms decay,
When ruffling tempests blow;
The soft delusions fleet away,
And pleasure ends in woe.

Why do I here expect repose?
Or seek for bliss in vain?
Since every pleasure earth bestows,
Is but dissembled pain.

O let my nobler wishes soar
Beyond these seats of night;
In heaven substantial bliss explore,
And permanent delight!

There pleasure flows forever clear;
And rising to the view
Such dazzling scenes of joy appear
As fancy never drew.

No fleeting landscape cheats the gaze.
Nor airy form beguiles;
But everlasting bliss displays
Her undissembled smiles.

Adieu to all below the skies,
Celestial guardian, come!
On thy kind wing my soul would rise
To her eternal home.