IX.

O happy love! Where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures!--bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare-- "If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale."