Come bathe with us, come bathe and share
What pleasures in the floods appear.
We'll beat the waters till they bound,
And circle, round, around, around,
And circle round, around.
Arth. A lazy pleasure trickles through my veins;
Here could I stay, and well be cozened here.
But honour calls;—is honour in such haste?
Can it not bait at such a pleasing inn?
No; for, the more I look, the more I long.—