The
Vision
.
To
Theron
.
NOw
gentle
sleep
my
willing
Eyes
had
clos'd
,
And
this
gay
Scene
the
smiling
God
impos'd
;
Methought
I
in
a
Mirtle
shade
was
plac'd
,
My
Tresses
curl'd
,
my
Brows
with
Laurel
grac'd
Fresh
was
the
Air
,
serenely
bright
the
Day
,
And
all
around
lookt
ravishingly
Gay
,
Active
my
Thoughts
,
my
Lyre
was
in
my
hand
,
And
once
more
Theron
did
my
Voice
command
;
Once
more
the
charming
Hero
did
inspire
My
daring
Muse
with
an
Heroick
Fire
;
The
smiling
Cupids
softly
flutter'd
round
,
Till
animated
with
the
generous
sound
,
Like
fighting
Gods
,
each
shook
his
Dart
and
frown'd
.
The
listning
streams
inchanted
with
my
Song
,
Scarce
drove
their
still
preceeding
waves
along
;
Whil'st
o're
and
o're
complaisant
eccho
bears
,
Through
every
cavern
the
immortal
Airs
;
About
my
Lips
th'
impatient
Zephirs
hung
,
To
snatch
the
tuneful
Numbers
from
my
Tongue
;
And
the
pleas'd
Graces
crowded
round
to
hear
their
Darling
Sung
.
The
Queen
of
Beauty
,
and
her
Doves
,
stood
by
,
When
I
,
to
please
the
Lovely
Deity
,
Told
her
,
what
Looks
,
what
Eyes
,
and
Smiles
he
had
,
Not
her
own
Charms
more
fatally
betray'd
:
At
every
strain
the
wounded
Goddess
sighs
,
Strains
,
sweet
and
powerful
,
as
her
own
fair
Eyes
.
Then
,
smiling
,
towards
her
own
bright
Orb
she
flew
,
And
,
with
her
,
all
the
Sanguine
Visions
drew
.