The wind breathd soft as lovers sigh, And, oft renewd, seemd oft to die, With breathless pause between, O who, with speech of war and woes, Would wish to break the soft repose Of such enchanting scene! ScottLord of the Isles. Canto IV. St. 13.
The best of men have ever loved repose: They hate to mingle in the filthy fray; Where the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows, Imbitterd more from peevish day to day. ThomsonThe Castle of Indolence. Canto I. St. 17.