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I know not what reviving sun
Can e'er that spring renew:
Then seize the glorious golden days,
That fill your cups with joy, Bid every gay and social scene
Your blissful hours employ:
Oft where the crowded stage invites,
The laughing Muses join;
Eugenio's laurel'd shrine :
Oft seek the haunts where Health and Joy
To sportive numbers move;
And wake the soul to love :
Yet ah! where'er you bend your way,
Let fair Discretion steer
And Passion's wild career.
So when the wintry hours shall come,
When youth and pleasure fly,
Perpetual charms, unfading Spring,
In sweet reflection find;
A sunshine oʻer the mind.
THE MAN OF SORROW.
Ah! what avails the lengthening mead, By nature's kindest bounty spread
Along the vale of flowers ! Ah! what avails the dark ning grove, Or Philomel's melodious love,
That glads the midnight hours !
For me (alas !) the god of day
Nor night her comfort brings:
Nor Philomela sings.
See, how the sturdy peasants stride,
In cheerful ignorance blest !
By gay contentment drest.
Content, fair daughter of the skies,
Her choice divinely free,
Of Avarice and me.
But see-or is it Fancy's dream?
Shot sudden thro' the groves.
More mild than Paphian doves!
Welcome, O! welcome, Pleasure's queen! And see, along the velvet green,
The jocund train advance : With scatter'd flowers they fill the air, The wood-nymph's dew-bespangled hair
Plays in the sportive dance.
Ah! baneful grant of angry heaven,
A soul alive to joy!
To cares, that peace destroy,
And see, with visionary haste,
Reality remains !
And slackens still the reins.
Ten thousand beauties round me throng, What beauties, say, ye nymphs, belong
To the distemper'd soul ? I see the lawn of hideous dye, The towering elm nods misery,
With groans the waters roll.
Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes,
Ye were for misery made
Along th' unhallow'd shade.
Oft I've implor'd the gods in vain,
And pray'd till I've been weary ;
Of Oberon the fairy.
Sweet airy being, wanton sprite,
That lurk'st in woods unseen,
Trip’st gaily o’er the green;
If e'er thy pitying heart was mov'd,
As ancient stories tell;
Thou sought'st a wond'rous spell;
Oh! deign once more t exert thy power!
Haply some herb or tree,
Conceals a balm for me.