(From The Carnival of Venice.)
BY adverse Fate when Beauty sighs,
A mingled claim our bosoms prove;
’Tis Virtue grac’d with gentler ties,
’Tis Pity soften’d into Love.
Blest, doubly blest, his transport glows,
Whose Pity can each joy refine;
When from that God-like source it flows,
The generous passion is divine.