——Give me but
Something whereunto I may bind my heart;
Something to love, to rest upon, to clasp
Affection’s tendrils round.
Wouldst thou wear the gift of immortal bloom?
Wouldst thou smile in scorn at the shadowy tomb?
Drink of this cup! it is richly fraught
With balm from the gardens of Genii brought;
Drink! and the spoiler shall pass thee by,
When the young all scatter’d like rose-leaves lie.