Two muddy-sick fish in the net of Ennui.
Of indolence most, ye mild couples, beware,
For the myrtles of Love often hide her soft snare;
The fond doves in their net, from his pounce cannot flee,
But the lark in the morn ’scapes the dæmon Ennui.
Let cheerful good-humour, that sunshine of life,
Which smiles in the maiden, illumine the wife;
And mutual attention, in equal degree,
Keep Hymen’s bright chain from the rust of Ennui.
To the graces together, O fail not to bend,