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In early life's unsullied morn, When hope the lover's breast beguiles,How fair the op'ning world appears, How gay each flatt'ring prospect smiles!
But, ah! beware—for broken vows May deeply rend thy feeling soul!Love's barbed arrows rankle there, And anguish rules without controul.
Now man enjoys his sweetest hours, And sunk in soft and calm repose,Kind sleep awhile the curtain draws Of sweet oblivion o'er his woes.
For oft the roseate morning brings A num'rous train of rising ills;And oft the mildly pensive eve The breaking heart with anguish fills.
Come, Morpheus! king of airy dreams, Oh! come, my drowsy eye-lids close;Let me forget each worldly care, And on thy downy breast repose.
For yet no crime my bosom stains, My conscience from remorse is free;—All day disturb'd, oppress'd with cares, I court forgetfulness and thee!
