John Dryden (1631–1700). The Poems of John Dryden. 1913.
Songs from the PlaysHow happy the Lover, from King Arthur
How easie his Chain,
How pleasing his Pain!
How sweet to discover
He sighs not in vain.
For Love ev’ry Creature
Is form’d by his Nature;
No Joys are above
The Pleasures of Love.
In vain are our Graces,
In vain are your Eyes,
If Love you despise;
When Age furrows Faces,
’Tis time to be wise.
Then use the short Blessing,
That flies in Possessing:
No Joys are above
The Pleasures of Love.