Virtue and Delight by Edward Thurlow Lyrics

It is a strange thing, but an excellent,
That virtue with delight is seldom wed,
For still it happens that some accident
Doth keep the excelling stranger from her bed:
So think I, that the elements combine
Against the occurrence of such blissful woe,
Nor ever are the planets now in trine
To make soft light upon this meeting flow.
Ah me, the armour that Achilles wore
Was made with sweat and with a toiling brow,
And worn with sweat, and of all love forlore;
As ever in this age we find it now:
Who thinks to rise above his equal peers
Must yield to death after long-toilsome years.