Leave nothing of this heavenly sight But loathsomeness and ruin Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, On which the lightest heart might moralize? Or is it only a sweet slumber Stealing o'er sensation, Which the breath of roseate morning Chaseth into darkness Will Ianthe wake again, And give that faithful bosom joy Whose sleepless Spirit waits to catch Light, life, and rapture from her smile?