The happiness that man, whilst prisoned here,
⁠Is wont with heavenly rapture to compare,—
The harmony of Truth, from wavering clear,—
⁠Of Friendship that is free from doubting care,—
The light which in stray thoughts alone can cheer
⁠The wise,—the bard alone in visions fair,—
In my best hours I found in her all this,
And made mine own, to mine exceeding bliss.