If the soft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters, and thro' flow'ry meads,
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene,
Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart — Beware:
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice,
And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice.