To Reason, that heav'n-lighted lamp in man, O! Lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Communion sweet! communion large and high! Or if we wish a fourth, it is a Friend But friends, how mortal! dang'rous the desire. E Take PHOEBUS to yourselves, ye basking bards! Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain-head; And reeling thro' the wilderness of joy; Where Sense runs savage, broke from Reason's chain, * Thou, who didst lately borrow CYNTHIA's form, And modestly forego thine Own! O Thou, Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute * At the duke of NORFOLK's masquerade. With higher gust, fair PD of the skies! The theft divine; or in propitious dreams (For dreams are Thine) transfuse it thro' the breast Of thy first votary- -But not thy last; If, like thy Namesake, thou art ever kind. And kind thou wilt be; kind on such a theme; A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul, Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel; Or shares it, ere it falls. So frequent death, |