"Just like love the balmy rose:"
For ah their sweets have many a thorn;
And tempests chase their early morn;
Serenely calm each rarely glows.
But when enchanting music flows
Then pure and full delight is born,
And anxious care and woe forlorn
Are lull'd into divine repose!--
Just like love blest music breathes:
But with her bliss no pang enwreaths.--
Like love, ere death, or fear, or pain
Invaded those primæval bowers
Where the first parents hail'd the reign
Of harmony mid angel-powers.
Capel Lofft (1753-1824)
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