Song from "King Arthur" (How happy the lover)

How happy the lover,
How easy his chain,
How pleasing his pain,
How sweet to discover,
He sighs not in vain!
For love every creature
Is form'd by his nature;
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.

In vain are our graces,
In vain are your eyes,
If love you despise;
When age furrows faces,
'T is time to be wise.
Then use the short blessing
That flies in possessing:
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.