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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.
Oh Fancy! why did'st thou decoy
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;
Come in my anxious look array'd,
Now, Fancy, now the fit is o'er;
BY JOSEPH WARTON, D.D.
O Parent of each lovely Muse,