To soothe and charm my Sally’s breast.
Should sorrow ever enter there,
(For merit is no shield from woe)
Disperse the Demons of despair,
And teach the softening tear to flow.
And e’en when rapture’s maniac train,
Shall wildly seize the impassion’d soul,
O, let some sweetly-plaintive strain,
The blissful agony control.
The feeling bosom illy bears