Where well known shades their pleasing branches bend,
Shed the soft poison from thy speaking eye,
And look those raptures lifeless words deny;
Still be, though late, reheard what ne’er could tire,
But, told each eve, fresh pleasures would inspire;
Still hope those scenes which love and fancy drew;
But, drawn a thousand times, were ever new.
“Can fancy paint, can words express;
Can aught on earth my woes redress;
E’en thy soft smiles can ceaseless prove