Ye dear deceptions! how ye move

The breast to long forgotten love?

Luxurious scenes! how ye excite

The traces of distinct delight!

E’en now around this poor half-frozen heart

170 Agnizing it’s accustom’d smart,

Like some mild lambent flame the passion plays;

And, vanquish’d by ideal charms,

I sink in the imagin’d arms

Of some sweet Phillis of my youthful days.