 | Poems |  |
116
THE HOUR OF BLISS!
I've banquets sought, but never yet
Could soothe my bosom's care;
Riot at every one I met,
But Pleasure was not there.
No, Pleasure loves too well to roam,
She heeds no one's behest;
Self-will'd, alas! she'll only come
An uninvited guest!
Could soothe my bosom's care;
Riot at every one I met,
But Pleasure was not there.
No, Pleasure loves too well to roam,
She heeds no one's behest;
Self-will'd, alas! she'll only come
An uninvited guest!
But, oh! the joys that Pleasure brings,
They precious are, and rare,
As is the Oasis, that springs
In Lybia's deserts bare.
A fountain in a world of sands,
A flower in barren plains,
A kindly voice in savage lands,
A balm where sickness reigns!
They precious are, and rare,
As is the Oasis, that springs
In Lybia's deserts bare.
A fountain in a world of sands,
A flower in barren plains,
A kindly voice in savage lands,
A balm where sickness reigns!
117
And shall we then slight Pleasure's hours?
Her transient joys defer?
No! when she visits life's dull bowers,
Let's woo and welcome her.
Life is too short, and woe too wide,
To slight one hour of bliss;
And when, with Maia by my side,
Was one more blest than this?
Her transient joys defer?
No! when she visits life's dull bowers,
Let's woo and welcome her.
Life is too short, and woe too wide,
To slight one hour of bliss;
And when, with Maia by my side,
Was one more blest than this?
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