And well for Peter that his pony knew
From whence he came, the road he should pursue;
For the young rider had his mind estranged
From all around, disturb’d and disarranged,
In pleasing tumult, in a dream of bliss,
Enjoy’d but seldom in a world like this.
But though the pleasures of the Day were past— 710
For lively pleasures are not form’d to last—
And though less vivid they became, less strong,
Through life they lived, and were enjoy’d as long.