10When Love in Beauty buried is!
Or that dead pity thus should be
Tomb'd in a living cruelty.
Were thy heart, &c.] This is not much inferior except as concerns the metre.
Sonnet.
Go, thou that vainly dost mine eyes invite
To taste the softer comforts of the night,
And bid'st me cool the fever of my brain
In those sweet balmy dews which slumber pain;