Cease humane Emmets your fallacious Toil!
Nor let vain Hopes, and Fears, your Hours beguile.
No solid Bliss can be obtain'd below,
Nor lasting Joys, from mortal Beings flow.
Like Sisyphus, we labour on in vain;
Like him we just our Wishes Height attain,
And then the fleeting Good rolls swiftly down again.
With sad Surprize, we lost Endeavours view,
Yet fated to Deceit our fruitless Toils renew.