Wit springs—wine sparkles in their light.
In such an hour—in such an hour,
In such an hour as this,
While Pleasure's fount throws up a shower
Of social sprinkling bliss,
Why does my bosom heave the sigh
That mars delight?—She is not by!
There was an hour—there was an hour
When I indulged the spell
That Love wound round me with a power