Love gain’d is love unlovely, joy ne’er seeth’d

But in desire, still with possession cloy’d;

If that the vows whose once perfection breath’d,

Could hide with words the margin of their void,

Then Love were hope, fulfilment, peace, combined,

Into a concord of unearthly bliss;

Then were the roses of enjoyment twined

Around the satire on young Love’s first kiss:

But Love says, no, and Nature too denies;

For Rapture rises but by woe’s decline:

And too much bliss, with a brief respite, dies

By coldness, that shall make love dimlier shine.

All love betrays man past its paltry base,

He mounts his bubble, soars, and falls apace.

{38}

{38}

XXXVIII.

Puff’d with the pride that feeds on lonely thoughts,

In seeking secure harbours, thou must fail

Of all the aim which with such toil thou sought’st:

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