Such was the scene that did awhile
My bosom of its cares beguile,
For he must have a wretched heart
To whom those joys no joy impart,
Which others are beheld to feel
And to th' attentive eye reveal;
Nay, I must own that this night's pleasure,
Which revell'd in unbounded measure,
A kind, though short, oblivion shed
O'er my crook-back and thoughtful head: