I. Ah, Fading Joy! How Quickly Art Thou Past! Yet We Thy Ruin Haste. As If The Cares Of Human Life Were Few, We Seek Out New: And Follow Fate, Which Would Too Fast Pursue. See How On Every Bough The Birds Express, In Their Sweet Notes, Their Happiness. They All Enjoy, And Nothing Spare; But On Their Mother Nature Lay Their Care: Why Then Should Man, The Lord Of All Below, Such Troubles Choose To Know, As None Of All His Subjects Undergo? Hark, Hark, The Waters Fall, Fall, Fall, And With A Murmuring Sound Dash, Dash Upon The Ground, To Gentle Slumbers Call. Ii. I Look'D, And Saw Within The Book Of Fate, When Many Days Did Lour, When Lo! One Happy Hour Leap'D Up, And Smiled To Save The Sinking State; A Day Shall Come When In Thy Power Thy Cruel Foes Shall Be; Then Shall Thy Land Be Free: And Then In Peace Shall Reign; But Take, O Take That Opportunity, Which, Once Refused, Will Never Come Again.