AN IMAGE OF PLEASURE.
[_]
In Imitation of an Ode in Casimire.
I
Solace of Life, my sweet Companion Lyre!
On this fair Poplar Bough I'll hang thee high,
While the gay Fields all soft Delights inspire,
And not One Cloud deforms the smiling Sky.
II
While whisp'ring Gales, that court the Leaves and Flow'rs,
Play thro' thy Strings, and gently make them sound,
Luxurious I'll dissolve the flowing Hours
In balmy Slumbers on the Carpet Ground.
III
But see—what sudden Gloom obscures the Air!
What falling Show'rs impetuous change the Day!
Let's rise, my Lyre—Ah Pleasure false as fair!
How faithless are thy Charms, how short thy Stay!
