In Cloaths confin'd, my weary Mind

Persu'd Felicity;

Throu ev'ry Street I ran to meet

My Bliss:

But nothing would the same disclose to me.

What is,

O where, the place of holy Joy!

Will nothing to my Soul som Light convey!

In ev'ry House I sought for Health,

Searcht ev'ry Cabinet to spy my Wealth,

I knockt at ev'ry Door,

Askt ev'ry Man I met for Bliss,

In ev'ry School, and Colledg, sought for this:

But still was destitute and poor.

My piercing Eys unto the Skies

I lifted up to see;

But no Delight my Appetit

Would sate;

Nor would that Region shew Felicity:

My Fate

Deny'd the same. Abov the Sky,

Yea all the Hev'n of Hev'ns, I lift mine Ey;

But nothing more than empty Space

Would there discover to my Soul its face.

Then back dissatisfy'd

To Earth I came; among the Trees,

In Taverns, Houses, Feasts, and Palaces,

I sought it, but was still deny'd.

Panting and faint, full of Complaint,

I it persu'd again

In Diadems, and Eastern Gems,

In Bags

Of Gold and Silver: but got no more Gain

Than Rags,

Or empty Air, or Vanity;

Nor did the Temples much more signify:

Dirt in the Streets; in Shops I found

Nothing but Toil. Walls only me surround

Of worthless Stones or Earth;

Dens full of Thievs, and those of Blood,

Complaints and Widows Tears: no other Good

Could there descry, no Hev'nly Mirth.

Mens Customs here but vile appear;

The Oaths of Roaring Boys,

Their Gold that shines, their sparkling Wines,

Their Lies,

Their gawdy Trifles, are mistaken Joys:

To prize

Such Toys I loath'd. My Thirst did burn;

But where, O whither should my Spirit turn!

Their Games, their Bowls, their cheating Dice,

Did not compleat, but spoil, my Paradise,

On things that gather Rust,

Or modish Cloaths, they fix their minds,

Or sottish Vanity their Fancy blinds,

Their Eys b'ing all put out with Dust.