Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/28

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But Truth shall mar my peace no more!
Her empire I abjure,
Who still delights to show the sore,
But never shows the cure.
No more her gall shall drug my bowl;
No more beneath her harsh controul
My swelling heart shall pine:
Her burning chains I burst, and now
To bind my willing senses vow,
Blest Vanity, in thine!

Hear, loved Deluder! hear my prayer!
Restore my bosom's rest;
Borne on yon rainbow cleave the air,
And lull me on thy breast!
Thy glittering fillet o'er my view
Bind with benignant hand; renew
The flattering dreams of youth;
For sure, 'tis better far to cheat
The mind to bliss with kind deceit,
Than wound with painful truth!