Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!
No king nor nation one moment can retard the appointed hour.
He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
Accurst ambition, how dearly I have bought you.
Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.