Reels with its fulness; there—forever there—
Chained to the chariot of triumphal Art,
We stand as captives, and would not depart.”
[p198]
THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE.
BY LORD BYRON.
Away with those fictions of flimsy romance!
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove!
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,