 | Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd |  |
4. Song. Ambition.
How deceitfull is the State
of that Greatness we adore,
when Ambitiously we soar,
And have ta'n the glorious height;
'tis but Ruine painted o're
To enslave us to our Fate;
Whose false Delight is easier got than kept;
Content ne're on it's gaudy Pillow slept.
of that Greatness we adore,
when Ambitiously we soar,
And have ta'n the glorious height;
'tis but Ruine painted o're
To enslave us to our Fate;
Whose false Delight is easier got than kept;
Content ne're on it's gaudy Pillow slept.
Then how fondly do we try
with such Superstitious care,
to bulild Fabricks in the Air;
Or seek safety in that Skie,
where no Stars, but Meteors are,
That portend a Ruine nigh:
Where having reach'd the Object of our Aim,
we find it but a Pyramide of flame.
with such Superstitious care,
to bulild Fabricks in the Air;
Or seek safety in that Skie,
where no Stars, but Meteors are,
That portend a Ruine nigh:
Where having reach'd the Object of our Aim,
we find it but a Pyramide of flame.
| Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd | |