drown’d in endless thoughts at evening’s close
fain to accept this extant life as real
and as i fell to fatigue’s cold repose
black wells of sickness did my spirit steal
weak hope calléd to seek a shred of worth
in finding what was sought, no treasures lay
powerless to turn ‘gainst constant hurt
in vain to blindly grasp at pleasures fay
to misery hath all travailings led
’tis true, new pains await at every turn
only a fool would rise from ennui’s bed
thus lie entombed, for all the world, a worm
when failure’s count exceeds sands in the sea
and victories hath ever prov’d empty