THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair! Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round!