No couple more cheerful and gay:
She counts him the loveliest swain;
He calls her the Queen of the May.
Of each others hearts they are sure;
The arts of no rival they dread.
From minds so unsulli’d and pure,
No treachery e’er can proceed.
Few princes partake of such joys,
Remov’d from all faction and strife:
Sure riches and honours are toys,