X.
My friend, my brother, lost in youth,
I meet in doubtful, glad surprise;
In conscious love, in fearless truth;
What pleasures in the meeting rise!
Ah! brief enjoyment!—Pleasure dies
E’en in its birth, and turns to pain:
He meets me with hard glazèd eyes!
He quits me—spurns me—with disdain! 80
XI.