  What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me; What wine, nor who the bringer, nor wherefore enter’d he. —Lament no more, O full heart, thy love so close confin’d! O rosebud, ope thy glory, thy beauty nought shall bind! Behold the flower-fill’d meadows; thou too, O wistful Dear, Take in thine hand the goblet, & lend to me thine ear! Lo, for our wintry sorrow I hold the certain cure! Lo, stern fate kneels before us! Lo, rapture evermore! —What madness ’twas I know not, that thus entrancÉd me; What wine, nor who the bearer, nor whither vanished he.
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