In SENSIBILITY'S lov'd praise
I tune my trembling reed,
And seek to deck her shrine with bays,
On which my heart must bleed!
No cold exemption from her pain
I ever wish to know;
Cheer'd with her transport, I sustain
Without complaint her woe.
Above whate'er content can give,
Above the charm of ease,
The restless hopes and fears, that live
With her, have power to please.
Where, but for her, were Friendship's power
To heal the wounded heart,
To shorten sorrow's ling'ring hour,