Corsair, Canto I. lines 427, 428, Poetical Works, 1900, iii. 242.]
A pleasure naught but drunkenness can bring:
For not the blest sherbet all chilled with snow.
Nor the full sparkle of the desert-spring,
Nor wine in all the purple of its glow.—[MS.]
[BZ] {134}Spread like an Ocean, varied, vast, and bright.—[MS.]
—— I'm sure they never reckoned;
And being joined—like swarming bees they clung,