Classic Poem

I.

As Beauty was rambling o'er Pleasure's ground,
And threading many a mazy grove,
Oh! who do you think she sleeping found?
But Love! sweet Love!
Well pleas'd, she sought no longer to roam,
But plac'd the boy in her bosom fair,
And brought him, sleeping, in safety home,
To flourish there.

II.

But Beauty went out the very next day,
To sail on a lake the sun shone on,
And when she return'd, fatigu'd with play;
She found Love gone.
He pin'd for Beauty's balmy sigh,
But, finding her fled, he sought a grove,
Where who of all the world should die?
But Love! sweet Love!