XXXVII.
Reading edition
Love gain’d is love unlovely, joy ne’er seeth’d But in desire, still with possession cloy’d; If that the vows whose once perfection breath’d, Could hide with words the margin of their void, Then Love were hope, fulfilment, peace, combined, Into a concord of unearthly bliss; Then were the roses of enjoyment twined Around the satire on young Love’s first kiss: But Love says, no, and Nature too denies; For Rapture rises but by woe’s decline: And too much bliss, with a brief respite, dies By coldness, that shall make love dimlier shine. All love betrays man past its paltry base, He mounts his bubble, soars, and falls apace.