The youthful wanderers found a wild alcove;
Soft o’er the fairy region languor stole,
And with sweet melancholy charmed the soul.
Here first Palemon, while his pensive mind
For consolation on his friend reclin’d,
In Pity’s bleeding bosom, poured the stream
Of Love’s soft anguish, and of grief supreme:
“Too true thy words! by sweet remembrance taught,
My heart in secret bleeds with tender thought;
In vain it courts the solitary shade,