The Squire agrees, but vows, when rising morn
Shall gild the glitt'rand portals of the east,
Himself he will in habergeon adorn,
And seek around the isle the blatant-beast:
Mean while in buxom mirth they spend the feast.
Ill fares the mortal man too much who knows;
Oft shall he wish himself from thought releast;
The fatal knowledge in his bosom glows,
And mars his golden rest, and murders soft repose.