Song—in the Islanders

This strange emotion at my heart Oh how shall I explain? 'Tis joy, 'tis grief, 'tis ease, 'tis smart, 'Tis pleasure, and 'tis pain! The busy trembling flutterer plays, It knows not how or why? And throbs and beats a thousand ways— Ah quiet prithee lie! Cease, and sensations such as these With careful heed destroy: What good is in the same degrees Of mingled pain and joy?