His breath delicious as the fragrant air;
His nature prone, attractive sweets t’ impart,
Good without shew, and lovely without art.
Each nymph him priz’d, and oft they sought, in vain,
The noble conquest of his heart to gain.
Their gentlest arts unable were to move,
His soul serene, yet undisturb’d by love.
Ah! transient happiness! how short thy sway!
How swift thy flight! how sudden thy decay!
Thy absence now the youth, dejected, mourns,