But one sweet smile, and one soft speech, suppress’d All pain, and set his feeling heart at rest. Nay, in return, she felt, or feign’d, a fear: 180 “He was too lively to be quite sincere— She knew a certain lady, and could name } A certain time”—So, even was the blame, } And thus the loving pair more deep in love became. } They married soon—for why delay the thing } That such amazing happiness would bring?— } Now of that blissful state, O Muse of Hymen! sing. } Love dies all kinds of death: in some so quick It comes—he is not previously sick; But ere the sun has on the couple shed 190 The morning rays, the smile of Love is fled. And what the cause? for Love should not expire, And none the reason of such fate require. Both had a mask, that with such pains they wore; Each took it off when it avail’d no more. They had no feeling of each other’s pain; To wear it longer had been crime in vain. As in some pleasant eve we view the scene, Though cool yet calm, if joyless yet serene— Who has not felt a quiet still delight 200 In the clear, silent, love-befriending night? The moon so sweetly bright, so softly fair, That all but happy lovers would be there— Thinking there must be in her still domain Something that soothes the sting of mortal pain; While earth itself is dress’d in light so clear, That they might rest contented to be here! Such is the night; but, when the morn awakes, The storm arises, and the forest shakes; This mighty change the grieving travellers find, 210 The freezing snows fast drifting in the wind; Firs deeply laden shake the snowy top, Streams slowly freezing, fretting till they stop; And void of stars the angry clouds look down On the cold earth, exchanging frown with frown. Such seem’d, at first, the cottage of our pair— Fix’d in their fondness, in their prospects fair; Youth, health, affection, all that life supplies, Bright as the stars that gild the cloudless skies— Were theirs—or seem’d to be; but soon the scene 220 Was black as if its light had never been. Weary full soon, and restless then, they grew; } Then off the painful mask of prudence threw; } For Time has told them all, and taught them what to rue. } They long again to tread the former round Of dissipation—“Why should he be bound, While his sweet inmate of the cottage sighs For adulation, rout, and rhapsodies? Not Love himself, did love exist, could lead A heart like hers, that flutter’d to be freed.” 230 But Love, or what seem’d like him, quickly died; Nor Prudence, nor Esteem, his place supplied. Disguise thrown off, each reads the other’s heart, And feels with horror that they cannot part. Still they can speak—and ’tis some comfort still, That each can vex the other when they will: Words half in jest to words in earnest led, }