Classic Poem

I.

When Trav'llers pass from Town to Town,
And quit for Foreign Realms their own,
To learn new Modes and Laws, and see
New Cities and new Company;
They visit Courts, and famous Men,
Rais'd by the Sword, or by the Pen:
And are with curious Sights amus'd,
By Nature or by Art produc'd.
When Gallia gives no more Delight,
Italia sooths their Lust of Sight;
Till cloy'd, they next the Towns demand,
In Belgia 's or Germania 's Land:
Then tir'd with Show, the weary Wand'rers come
To rest in Peace and sweeter Seats at Home.

II.

So have I roam'd, and so pursu'd
New Objects, and new Places view'd:
I've tasted all the Pleasures here,
They are not lasting, nor sincere.
My present Thoughts condemn my past,
I've with my Notions chang'd my Taste.
To Eat and Drink, Discourse and Play,
To Morrow, as we do to Day,
This beaten Tract of Life I've trod
So long, it grows a tedious Road.
I have the World survey'd, and know
The Worth of what it can bestow:
It can no more new Scenes adorn,
The same known Pleasures still return;
What can the Coming Time afford me more,
Than I have often here enjoy'd before?

III.

I search in vain, in vain pursue,
Some Scene untry'd, some Pleasure new:
I'm tir'd with Hearing, tir'd with Sight,
Applauses are a past Delight:
The Wise and Witty, once my Joy,
By Custom now begin to cloy;
The Wise prescribe, the Witty rave,
These are too Gay, and those too Grave.
Who here on Earth would long remain,
In fleeting Joys and lasting Pain?
Should we not, eager to be gone,
Prefer to this the World unknown,
Hoping to find in happy Seats above,
Exalted Pleasures worthy of our Love?