Shall Time, avenging every woe, To us that joy allot Which Israel thrilled when Sisera's brow Showed gaunt and showed the clot?

There each trim lass that skims the milky store To the swart tribes their creamy bowl allots; By night they sip it round the cottage door, While airy minstrels warble jocund notes.

Mont. I shall deserve my fate, if I refuse That happy hour which heaven allots to use: