Disappointed. I. FRom Clime to Clime with restless toyl we Roam, But sadly still our old Griefs we Retain, And with us bear (tho we out-rove the Main) The same disquiet selves we brought from Home! Can Nature's plenteous Board Spread wide from Pole to Pole, Sufficient Cates afford To Satiate or Delude one Craving Soul? Produce what wealth the Sea contains, Or sleeps deep lodg'd in Indian Veins, Th' Insatiate Mind will gorge the store And call for more. II. The Food of Angels of immortal kind, Alone can be design'd To Feast th'unbounded Appetite o'th' Mind. To those bright Seats let me aspire Where solid joys remain, So firm they can sustain, And stand the full Career of Chast Desire. Th'Enjoyments we pursue So hotly here below, Are Charming Daphnes in the Chase And (Daphne-like) Transforming, Fool us in th'Embrace!