Page:Poems, Consisting Chiefly of Translations from the Asiatick Languages.djvu/83



In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs, New luster to those charms impart ? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrow'd gloss of art?

Speak not of fate:—ah! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom: 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.