But as the sun, refulgent globe of light,
By mists obscur'd, may shine more dimly bright;
Or by some sable cloud its lustre veil'd,
Lie hid in darkness from the world conceal'd;
So every joy which mortals here can know
Is damp'd by sorrow, or is mix'd with woe.
Pleasure entire, from all assaults secure,
To no one's granted, no one can ensure.
Ungovern'd passions to such heights will rise,
That friendship's self oft falls a sacrifice;
A fire is kindled in the human breast,
By words misconstru'd, or a simple jest,
As some one relish often spoils a feast.
Thus sportful, frisking on the sunny green,
Two lambkins loving are not seldom seen:
Off from the flock they to a distance stray,
And all a battle represent in play;
Till some unlucky thrusts rouse up their rage,
Pretence is gone, in earnest they engage.
Those whom she sung, the muse reluctant sees
Differ for causes trivial as these;
And full of anguish, sighing and alone,
Pours out her deep-felt melancholy moan:
"Where dwelt their mutual fondness in that hour
When love took leave, and kindness now no more?
Alas! No more, in social converse join'd,
Shall they partake the rapture of the mind?
Placid content, shall fell disgust succeed,
And vexing discord make enjoyment bleed?
Forbid it, Heav'n! And to them gracious deign
Their strict agreeing harmony again!
All jarring thoughts at utmost distance keep,
And bid the former in oblivion sleep!"
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