 | Rhapsodies |  |
138
THE LOVER's REPLY.
Why say that wine contains a spell
To cure the love-sick mind;
To lull those pangs I know so well;
Those ecstacies refin'd?
To cure the love-sick mind;
To lull those pangs I know so well;
Those ecstacies refin'd?
In full libations have I quaff'd,
The sparkling rosy tide;
But nought avail'd the cheering draught;
Love, Love its power defied.
The sparkling rosy tide;
But nought avail'd the cheering draught;
Love, Love its power defied.
Friendship, avaunt! thy counsel's vain,
No art can Love control;
He's lord alike of bliss and pain,
And still shall sway my soul.
No art can Love control;
He's lord alike of bliss and pain,
And still shall sway my soul.
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