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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Honourable Charles Montague, Esq.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Howe'er, 'tis well that, while mankind<br>Through fate's perverse meander errs,<br>He can imagined pleasures find <br>To combat against real cares.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fancies and notions he pursues,<br>Which ne'er had being but in thought;<br>Each, like the Grecian artist, wooes,<br>The image he himself has wrought.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Against experience he believes;<br>He argues against demonstration:<br>Pleased when his reason he deceives,<br>And sets his judgement by his passion.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The hoary fool, who many days<br>Has struggled with continued sorrow,<br>Renew's his hope, and blindly lays<br>The desperate bet upon to-morrow.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">To-morrow comes: 'tis noon, 'tis night:<br>This day like all the former flies;<br>Yet on he runs to seek delight<br>To-morrow, till to-night he dies.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Our hopes like towering falcons aim<br>At objects in an airy height:<br>The little pleasure of the game<br>Is from afar to view the flight.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Our anxious pains we all the day<br>In search of what we like employ;<br>Scorning at night the worthless prey,<br>We find the labour gave the joy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At distance through an artful glass<br>To the mind's eye things well appear;<br>They lose their forms, and make a mass<br>Confused and black, if brought too near.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">If we see right we see our woes:<br>Then what avails it to have eyes?<br>From ignorance our comfort flows:<br>The only wretched are the wise.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457251" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We weary'd should lie down in death:<br>This cheat of life would take no more<br>If you thought fame but empty breath,<br>I Phillis but a perjured whore.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Matthew+Prior">Matthew Prior</a></strong></div>

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