Classic Poem

To Vaine hope.

Thou dreame of madmen, ever changing gale,
Swell with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile
Of glorious fooles. Thou guid'st them who thee court
To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port.
Were I not mad, who when secure at ease,
I might ith' Cabbin passe the raging Seas,
Would like a franticke shipboy wildly haste,
To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe mast?
Ambition never to her hopes did faine
A greatnesse, but I really obtaine
In my Castara . Wer't not fondnesse then
T' embrace the shadowes of true blisse? And when
My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed:
To rob a barren garden for a weed?

To Vaine hope.

Thou dreame of madmen, ever changing gale,
Swell with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile
Of glorious fooles. Thou guid'st them who thee court
To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port.
Were I not mad, who when secure at ease,
I might ith' Cabbin passe the raging Seas,
Would like a franticke shipboy wildly haste,
To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe mast?
Ambition never to her hopes did faine
A greatnesse, but I really obtaine
In my Castara . Wer't not fondnesse then
T' embrace the shadowes of true blisse? And when
My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed:
To rob a barren garden for a weed?