Never, never look to findA faithful heart in him whose rage can harmSweetest lips, which Venus kindHas tinctured with her quintessential charm.Happy, happy; happy theyWhose living love, untroubled by all strife,Binds them till the last sad day,Nor parts asunder but with parting life!O luckless bark! new waves will force you backTo sea. O, haste to make the haven yours!E'en now, a helpless wrack,You drift, despoil'd of oars;The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain,Till lash'd with cables round,A more imperious main.