And vain cold phantoms quiv’ring stand,
In those sad gloomy shades of night,
No Cynthia’s charms will then command,
Nor Iris with her angel’s voice delight;
Nor Doris with soft dying languors move.
These dreary realms exclude, alas! for ever love.
III.
Nor are there any boon companions there,
To laugh, and sing, and make good cheer:
There shall we taste no more that wondrous juice,