Oh Pleasure come! — and far, far hence
Expel that nun, Indifference!
Where'er she waves her Ebon wand,
Drencht in the dull Lethaean deep,
Behold the marble passions stand
Absorb'd in everlasting sleep!
Then from the waste, and barren mind
The muse's fairy-phantoms fly,
They fly, nor leave a wreck behind
Of heav'n-descended poesy:
Love's thrilling tumults then are felt no more,
Quencht is the gen'rous heat, the rapt'rous throbs are o'er!