O, happy pair,
Lords of fair Eden’s blooming range, where earth,
Benignant parent, from her verdant lap
Spontaneous pour’d immortal sweets, and gave
Whate’er could minister delight! Too soon,
Alas, this scene was closed: behold them now,
So lately rich in happiness, and blessed
With converse of the Living God, o’erwhelmed
In misery, and tortured by the stings
Of conscious guilt.