64
HOURS OF IDLENESS.
Your pain seem'd so great,
I pitied your fate,
As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.
4.
Since the balm-breathing kiss[1]
Of this magical Miss,
Can such wonderful transports produce;[2]
Since the "world you forget,
When your lips once have met,
My counsel will get but abuse.
5.
You say, "When I rove,"
"I know nothing of love;"
'Tis true, I am given to range;
If I rightly remember,
I've lov'd a good number;[3]
Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.
6.
I will not advance,[4]
By the rules of romance,