Song I

Song I

'Midst beauty and pleasure's gay triumphs, to languish And droop without knowing the source of my anguish; To start from short slumbers and look for the morning — Yet close my dull eyes when I see it returning;

Sighs sudden and frequent, looks ever dejected, Sounds that steal from my tongue, by no meaning connected! Ah say, fellow-swains, how these symptoms befell me? They smile, but reply not. Sure Delia will tell me!