Flutter my heart, and swell my throat.
Those sounds but spoke of bosom-balm,
Of pity prompt and kindness calm;
Of tender care, of anxious zeal;
For here were breasts whose hearts could feel!
’T was as to guest in stranger halls
If voice of friend a welcome calls:
Such pleasure soothes the starting maid,
Who finds some jewel long mislaid;
Pleasure, which blessed dew supplies,