No more that condemned self this country roams;
Nor need I blow Solitude's oboe.
What need have I to fasten fancied moans
To staring stars when I feel Cupid's bow?
I have escaped from misery innate;
Redeemed, as Fortune's own Odysseus
From thoughtful strife, unenviable fate,
Released from smirks and taunts facetious.
An angel, humble, beautiful and merry
Uses me as a shadow's poorer side.
She disavowed the cruel gooseberry
And marked a saltant turn in Fortune's tide.
So never may this verse sublime you see
Or it disprove by changed felicity.