A Curse on the zealous and ignorant crew, Who languish all day, and with passion obey The senseless decrees that Platonicks pursue. How poor and unhappy, unhappy are those pretenders, Who, fearful of scandal and vulgarly shame, Diminish their flame! But blest be the man who with freedom enjoys A beauty whose Eyes, like the Stars in the Sky, Procures new delight till his appetite cloyes. How happy, how happy, how happy are those pretenders, Who, fearless of scandal or vulgar reproach, Pursue their debauch! Elizium's a grief and a torment, compar'd To those that can prove the enjoyment of Love, Where Lovers in raptures do meet a reward, The tales of the antients, of Elizian fields, are ungrounded, In Love's kind fruition, where souls have access, Oh! there's the true bliss!
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Music of Dalkeith Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin