I.
Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts,
Live not through the waste of time!
Loves rose a host of thorns invests;
Cold, ungenial is the clime,
Where its honours blow.
Youth says, The purple flowers are mine,
Which die the while they glow.
II.
Dear the boon to Fancy given,
Retracted whilst its granted:
Sweet the rose which lives in Heaven,
Although on earth tis planted,
Where its honours blow,
While by earths slaves the leaves are riven
Which die the while they glow.
III.
Age cannot Love destroy,
But perfidy can blast the flower,
Even when in most unwary hour
It blooms in Fancys bower.
Age cannot Love destroy,
But perfidy can rend the shrine
In which its vermeil splendours shine.
