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Oh tyrant Love! hast thou possest
Love, soft iutruder, enters here,
Which Nature has imprest?
The mild and gen'rous breast?
Love's purer flame the Gods approve;
Brutus for absent Portia siglis,
What is loose love? a transient gast,
· But Hymen's kinder flames unite :
And burn for ever one ;
Productive as the sun.
Oh source of ev'ry social tye,
What various joys on one attend,
Whether his hoary sire he spies,
What home felt raptures move ?
With rey'rence, hope, and love.
Hence guilty joya, distastes, sormizes,
Hence false tears, deceits, disguises, Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes ;
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine : Purest love's unwasting treasure, Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure Days of ease, and nights of pleasure ;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.
When on thy bosom I recline,
To call thee mine for life;
Of Husband and of Wife.
One mutual flame inspires our bliss :-
Ev'n years have not destroy'd ;
That love can ne'er be cloy'd,
Have I a wish? 'tis all for thee; - Hast thou a wish? 'tis all for me:
So soft our moments move,
And bid us live and love.
If cares arise (and cares will come),
I loll me there to rest; And is there ought disturbs my Fair? I bid her sigh out all her care,
And lose it in my breast.
Round Love's elysian bowers,
The softest prospects rise,
There shine the purest skies;
Round Love's deserted bowers,
Tremendous rocks arise,
Tornadoes rend the skies;
Then youth, thou fond believer!
The wily syren shun,
Will surely be undone !
Far from the throbbing bosom haste,
But, ah! return ye smiling hours,
So shall the moments gaily glide