Why this consuming wild desire,
⁠This restless passion vague and strange?
That well I know I rave, 't is fire,
⁠Yet plunge in its deceitful range.

Why do I dream of love and joy,
⁠That I am sure a lie will prove?
Why where fantastic charms decoy,
⁠Will thus my heart delirious move,
If soon it finds for meads and flowers,
⁠But arid wastes and tangled thorns,
And soon a loathing rage overpowers
⁠The mad or mournful love it scorns?

Flung as a rapid comet wide,
⁠On ardent fancy's wings I flew,
Where'er my wayward mind espied
⁠Or joys or triumphs to pursue.
I launched myself, in daring flight,
⁠Beyond the world through heavenward space,
And found but doubt, and all so bright
⁠That seem'd, illusive proved the chase.

Then on the earth I anxious sought
⁠For virtue, glory, love sublime;
And my worn spirit found there nought