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And now

I o'er all her charms, Now sink transported in her arms. Oh sacred Energy divine! All these enraptur'd scenes are thine. Haill copious source of pure delight; All hail! thou heaven-revealed rite; Endearing Truth thy train attends, And thou and meek-ey'd Peace art friends : Closer entwine the magic bow'r; Thick rain the rose-empurpld show'r : The mystic joy impatient flies Th' unhallow'd


of vulgar eyes.
Unenvy'd let the rich and great
Turmoil without, and parcel Fate,
Indulging here, in bliss supreme,
Might I enjoy the golden dream :
But, ah! the rapture must not stay ;
For see! she glides, she glides away.

Oh Fancy! why did'st thou decoy
My thoughts into this dream of Joy,
Then to forsake me all alone,
To mourn the fond delusion gone?
O! back again, benign, restore
The pictur'd vision as before.
Yes, yes : once more I fold my eyes ;
Arise, ye dear deceits, arise.
Ideas bland! where do ye rove?
Why fades my visionary grove?

But now,

Ye fickle troop of Morpheus' train, Then will you, to the proud and vain, From me, fantastic, wing your fight, T'adorn the dream of false delight?

seen in MONIMIA's air, Can you assume a form less fair, Some idle Beauty's wish supply, The mimic triumphs of her eye ? Grant all to me this live-long night, Let charms detain the rising light; For this one night my liväries wear, And I absolve you for the year.

What time your poppy-crowned God Sends his truth-telling scouts abroad, Ere yet the cock to mattins rings, And the lark, with mounting wings, The simple village swain has warn'd To shake of sleep by labour earn’d; Or on the rose's silken hem, Aurora weeps her earliest gem; Or, beneath the op’ning dawn, Smiles the fair-extended lawn;

When in the soft-encircled shade Ye find reclin'd the gentle Maid, Each busy motion laid to rest, And all compos’d her peaceful breast : Swift paint the fair internal scene, The phantom-labours of your reign;

The living imag'ry adorn With all the limnings of the morn, With all the treasures Nature keeps Conceal'd below the forming deeps ; Or dress'd in the rich waving pride, That covers the green mountain's side, Or blooms beneath the am'rous gale In the wide-embosom'd vale. Let pow'rful Music too essay The magic of her hidden lay : While each harsh thought away shall fly Down the full stream of harmony, Compassion mild shall fill their place, Each gentle minister of grace, Pity, that often melts to Love Let weeping Pity, kind improve, The soften'd heart, prepar'd to take Whate'er impressions Love shall make. Ohl in that kind, that secret hour, When Hate, when Anger have no pow'r ; When sighing Love, mild simple boy, Courtship sweet, and tender joy, Alone possess

the fair-one's heart; Let me then, Fancy, bear my part.

Oh Goddess ! how I long t’appear;
The hour of dear success draws near :
See where the crouding Shadows wait ;
Haste and unfold the iv'ry gate :
Ye gracious forms, employ your aid,

Come in my anxious look array'd,
Come Love, come Hymen, at my pray’r
Led by blythe Hope, ye decent pair
By mutual confidence combin'd
As erst in sleep I saw you join'd.
Fill my eyes with heart-swellid tears,
Fill my breast with heart-born fears,
Half-utter'd vows and half-suppress’d,
Part look'd, and only wish'd the rest ;
Make sighs, and speaking sorrows prove,
Suffering much, how much I love ;
Make the Muses lyre complain,
Strung by me in warbled strain ;
Let the melodious numbers flow
Pow'rful of a Lover's woe,
Till, by the tender Orphean art,
I through her ear shall gain her heart.

Now, Fancy, now the fit is o'er;
I feel my sorrows vex no more :
But when condemn'd again to mourn,
Fancy, to my aid return.





O Parent of each lovely Muse,
Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse,
O’er all my artless songs preside,
My footsteps to thy temple guide,
To offer at thy turf-built shrine,
In golden cups no costly wine,
No murder'd fatling of the flock,
But flowers and honey from the rock.
O Nymph with loosely-flowing hair,
With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare,
Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound,
Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd,
Waving in thy snowy hand
An all-commanding magic wand,
Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens blow,
'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow,
Whose rapid wings thy flight convey
Through air, and over earth and sea,
While the vast various landscape lies
Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes.

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