LOVE Triumphant over REASON. A Vision. Tho' gloomy Thoughts disturb'd my anxious Breast, All the long Night, and drove away my Rest. Just as the dawning Day began to rise, A grateful Slumber clos'd my waking Eyes: But active Fancy to strange Regions flew, And brought surprising Objects to my View. Methought I walk'd in a delightful Grove, The soft Retreat of Gods, when Gods make Love. Each beauteous Object my charm'd Soul amaz'd, And I on each with equal Wonder gaz'd; Nor knew which most delighted, all was fine, The noble Product of some Pow'r Divine. But as I travers'd the obliging Shade, Which Myrtle, Jessamin, and Roses made, I saw a person whose Celestial Face At first declar'd her, Goddess of the Place; But I discover'd, when approaching near, An Aspect full of Beauty, but severe: Bold, and Majestic, ev'ry awful Look Into my Soul a secret Terror struck. Advancing farther on, she made a stand, And beckon'd me, I kneeling, kiss'd her Hand: Then thus began — bright Deity! for so You are, no Mortal such Perfections know; I may intrude, but how I was convey'd To this strange place, or by what pow'rful Aid, I'm wholly ignorant, nor know I more, Or where I am, or whom I do adore, Instruct me then, that I no longer may In Darkness serve the Goddess I obey. Youth, she reply'd, this place belongs to one, By whom you'll be, and Thousands are undone. These pleasant Walks, and all these shady Bow'rs Are in the Government of dang'rous Pow'rs. Love's the capricious Master of this Coast, This fatal Labyrinth where Fools are lost. I dwell not here amidst these gaudy Things, Whose short Enjoyment no true Pleasure brings. But have an Empire of a nobler kind, My regal Seat's in the celestial Mind; Where with a God-like, and a Peaceful Hand I Rule, and make those Happy, I Command. For while I Govern, all within's at Rest; No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast: But when my Pow'r is Despicable grown, And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne, The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys; But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise. Know Youth! I'm Reason, which you've oft despiz'd, I am that Reason, which you never Priz'd: And tho' my Arguments Successless prove, (For Reason seems Impertinence in Love.) Yet I'll not see my Charge, (for all Mankind Are to my Guardianship by Heav'n assign'd) Into the Grasp of any Ruin run, That I can warn 'em of, and they may shun. Fly Youth these Guilty Shades, retreat in time E'er your Mistake's converted to a Crime; For Ignorance no longer can attone, When once the Error, and the Fault is known. You thought perhaps, as Giddy Youth inclines, Imprudently to value all that Shines, In these Retirements freely to possess True Joy, and strong substantial Happiness. But here Gay Folly keeps her Court, and here In Crowds her Tributary Fops appear; Who blindly Lavish of their Golden Days, Consume them all in her Fallacious Ways. Pert Love with her, by joint Commission Rules In this Capacious Realm of Idle Fools; Who by false Arts, and Popular Deceits, The Careless, Fond, Unthinking Mortal Cheats. 'Tis easy to descend into the Snare, By the pernicious Conduct of the Fair; But Safely to return from this Abode Requires the Wit, the Prudence of a God; Tho' you, who have not tasted that Delight, Which only at a Distance charms your Sight; May with a little Toil retreive your Heart, Which lost, is subject to Eternal Smart. Bright Delia's Beauty, I must needs confess. Is truly Great, nor would I make it less: That were to wrong Her, where she Merits most, But Dragons guard the Fruit, and Rocks the Coast. And who would run, that's moderately Wise, A Certain Danger, for a Doubtful Prize? If you miscarry, you are lost so far, (For there's no erring Twice in Love, and War) You'll ne'er recover, but must always Wear Those Chains you'll find it difficult to bear. Delia has Charms I own, such Charms would move, Old Age, and frozen Impotence to Love; But do not Venture where such Danger lies, Avoid the Sight of those Victorious Eyes, Whose pois'nous Rays do to the Soul impart Delicious Ruin, and a pleasing Smart. You draw, Insensibly, Destruction near, And Love the Danger, which you ought to fear. If the light Pains, you labour under Now Destroy your Ease, and make your Spirits Bow? You'll find 'em much more grievous to be born, When heavier made by an imperious Scorn. Nor can you hope, she will your Passion hear With softer Notions, or a kinder Ear, Than those of other Swains, who always found, She rather widen'd, than clos'd up the Wound. But grant she should indulge your Flame, and give Whate'er you'd ask, nay all you can receive; The short liv'd Pleasure would so quickly cloy, Bring such a weak, and such a feeble Joy, You'd have but small Encouragement to boast The Tinsel Rapture worth the Pains it cost. Consider Strephon soberly of Things What strange Inquietudes Love always brings, The foolish Fears, vain Hopes, and Jealousies, Which still attend upon this fond Disease: How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine, Call ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Look, Divine; Commend each Sentence with an humble Smile, Tho' Nonsense, swear it is a heavenly Stile. Servilely rail at all she disapproves, And as ignobly, flatter all she loves. Renounce your very Sense, and silent sit, While she puts off Impertinence for Wit. Like Setting-Dog new whip'd for springing Game, You must be made by due Correction tame But if you can endure the nauseous Rule Of Woman, do, love on, and be a Fool. You know the Danger, your own Methods use, The Good, or Evil's in your pow'r to chuse; But who'd expect a short, and dubious Bliss On the declining of a Precipice: Where if he slips, not Fate it self can save The falling Wretch from an untimely Grave. Thou great Directress of our Minds, said I, We safely on your Dictates may rely. And that which you have now so kindly prest Is true, and without Contradiction best; But with a steady Sentence to controul The Heat, and Vigour of a youthful Soul, While gay Temptations hover in our Sight, And daily bring new Objects of Delight, Which on us with surprizing Beauty smile, Is difficult, but 'tis a noble Toil. The best may slip, and the most cautious fall, He's more than Mortal that ne'er err'd at all; And, tho' fair Delia has my Soul possest, I'll chace her bright Idea from my Breast. At least I'll make one Essay, if I fail, And Delia's Charms o'er Reason does prevail, I may be sure from rigid Censures free, Love was my Foe, and Love's a Deity. Then she rejoyn'd, may you successful prove, In your Attempt to curb imperious Love, Then will proud Passion own her rightful Lord, You to your self, I to my Throne restor'd; But to confirm your Courage, and inspire Your Resolution with a bolder Fire, Follow me Youth! I'll show you that shall move Your Soul to Curse the Tyranny of Love. Then she convey'd me to a Dismal Shade, Which Melancholy Yew, and Cypress made; Where I beheld an Antiquated Pile Of rugged Building in a Narrow Isle; The Water round it gave a Nauseous Smell, Like Vapours Steeming from a Sulph'rous Cell. The Ruin'd Wall compos'd of Stinking Mud, O'ergrown with Hemlock, on Supporters Stood; As did the Roof ungrateful to the View 'Twas both an Hospital, and Bedlam too. Before the Entrance, mould'ring Bones were Spread Some Skeletons entire, some lately Dead, A little Rubbish loosely Scatter'd o'er Their Bodies Uninterr'd, lay round the Door. No Fun'ral Rites, to any here, were paid, But Dead like Dogs into the Dust convey'd. From Hence, by Reason's Conduct, I was brought Thro' various Turnings to a Spacious Vault, Where, I beheld, and 'twas a Mournful Sight, Vast Crowds of Wretches, all debarr'd from Light, But What a few dim Lamps expiring had, Which made the Prospect more amazing Sad; Some Wept, Some Rav'd, Some Musically Mad. Some Swearing Loud, and Others Laughing; Some Were always Talking, Others always Dumb. Here One, a Dagger in his Breast, expires, And quenches with his Blood his Am'rous Fires; There Hangs a Second, and not far Remov'd, A Third lies poison'd, who false Celia Lov'd. All Sorts of Madness, ev'ry Kind of Death, By which Unhappy Mortals lose their Breath, Was there expos'd before my Wond'ring Eyes, The sad Effect of Female Treacheries. Others I saw, which were not quite bereft Of Sense, tho' very Small Remains were left, Cursing the fatal Folly of their Youth, For trusting to Perjurious Woman's Truth, These on the Left. Upon the Right a View Of equal Horror, equal Mis'ry too, Amazing, all employ'd my troubled thought, And with New Wonder, New Aversion brought. There I beheld a Wretched num'rous Throng Of Pale Lean Mortals, some lay stretch'd along On Beds of Straw, Disconsolate and Poor, Others extended Naked on the Floor: Exil'd from Human Pity, here they lie And know no End of Mis'ry till they Die: But Death which comes in Gay and Prosp'rous Days Too Soon; in time of Misery Delays. These Dreadful Spectacles had so much Pow'r, I Vow'd, and Solemnly, to Love no more: For sure that Flame is Kindled from Below, Which breeds such Sad variety of Woe. Then we descending by some few Degrees From this Stupendous Scene of Miseries; Bold Reason brought me to another Cave Dark as the inmost Chambers of the Grave. Here Youth, she cry'd, in the acutest Pain Those Villains lie, who have their Fathers slain. Stab'd their own Brothers, nay their Friends, to please Ambitious, proud, revengeful Mistresses; Who after all their Services, preferr'd Some rugged Fellow of the brawny Herd, Before these Wretches, who despairing dwell In Agonies no Human Tongue can tell. Darkness prevents the too amazing Sight, And you may bless the happy Want of Light. But my tormented Ears were fill'd with Sighs, Expiring Groans, and lamentable Cries, So very sad I could endure no more, Methought I felt the Miseries they bore. Then to my Guide said I, for pity now Conduct me back, here I confirm my Vow; Which if I dare infringe, be this my Fate, To die thus wretched, and repent too late. The Charms of Beauty I'll no more pursue; Delia farewel, farewel for ever too. Then we return'd to the delightful Grove, Where Reason still disswaded me from Love. You see, she cry'd, what Misery attends On Love, and where too frequently it ends; And let not that unweildy Passion sway Your Soul, which none but whining Fools obey. The Masculine, brave Spirit, scorns to own That proud Usurper of my sacred Throne; Nor with idolatrous Devotion pays To the false God, or Sacrifice, or Praise. The Syren's Musick, charms the Sailor's Ear, But he is ruin'd if he stops to hear; And if you listen, Love's harmonious Voice, As much delights, as certainly destroys. Ambrosia mix'd with Aconite may have A pleasant Taste but sends you to the Grave; For tho' the Latent Poison may be still A while, it very seldom fails to kill. But who'd partake the Food of Gods to die Within a Day, or live in Misery, Who'd eat with Emperours, if o'er his Hea A Poniard hung, but by a single Thread? Love's Banquets are extravagantly sweet, And either kill, or surfeit all that eat; Who, when the sated Appetite is tir'd, Even loath the Thoughts of what they once admir'd. You've promis'd Strephon, to forsake the Charms Of Delia, tho' she courts you to her Arms; And sure I may your Resolution trust, You'll never want Temptation, but be just: Vows of this Nature, Youth, must not be broke, You're always bound, tho' 'tis a gentle Yoke, Would Men be Wise, and my Advice pursue; Love's Conquest would be small, his Triumphs few. For Nothing can oppose his Tyranny, With such a Prospect of Success as I: Me he detests, and from my Presence flies, Who know his Arts, and Stratagems despise; By which he cancels mighty Wisdom's Rules To make himself the Deity of Fools: Him dully they Adore, him blindly Serve, Some while they're Sots, and other while they Starve. For those, who under his Wild Conduct go, Either come Coxcombs, or he makes 'em so. His Charms deprive, by their strange Influence, The Brave of Courage, and the Wise of Sense; In Vain Philosophy would set the Mind At Liberty, if once by him Confin'd; The Scholar's Learning, and the Poet's Wit A while may Struggle, but at last Submit: Well weigh'd Results, and Wise Conclusions seem But empty Chat, Impertinence to him, His Opiates seize so strongly on the Brain, They make all Prudent Application Vain. If therefore you resolve to Live at Ease, To taste the Sweetness of Internal Peace: Would not for Safety to a Battle fly, Or chuse a Shipwreck, if afraid to Die, Far from these pleasurable Shades remove, And leave the Fond Inglorious Toil of Love This said, She Vanish'd, and Methought I found My self Transported to a Rising Ground, From whence I did a pleasant Vale Survey; Large was the Prospect, Beautiful, and Gay. There I beheld th' Apartments of Delight, Whose curious Forms oblig'd the Wond'ring Sight. Some in full View upon the Champian plac'd, With lofty Walls, and cooling Streams embrac'd: Others, in Shady Groves, retir'd from Noise, The Seats of Private and Exalted Joys. At a great Distance I perceiv'd there stood A Stately Building in a Spacious Wood, Whose Gilded Turrets rais'd their beauteous Heads, High in the Air to View the Neighb'ring Meads, Where Vulgar Lovers spent their Happy Days In Rustick Dancing and delightful Plays. But while I gaz'd with Admiration round, I heard from far, Celestial Musick sound, So Soft, so Moving; so Harmonious all, The Artful Charming Notes did rise and fall, My Soul, transported with the Grateful Airs, Shook off, the Pressures of its former Fears. I felt afresh the little God begin To stir himself, and gently move within: Then I repented I had vow'd no more To Love, or Delia's Beauteous Eyes adore: Why am I now condemn'd to Banishment, And made an Exile by my Own Consent. I sighing cry'd; why should I live in Pain Those fleeting Hours, which ne'er return again? O Delia! what can wretched Strephon do? Inhuman to himself, and false to you. 'Tis true, I've promis'd Reason to remove From these Retreats, and quit bright Delia's Love: But is not Reason partially unkind? Are all her Votaries like me confin'd? Must none, that under her Dominion live, To Love, and Beauty, Veneration give? Why then did Nature youthful Delia grace With a majestick Mien, and charming Face? Why did she give her that surprizing Air, Make her so gay, so witty, and so fair? Mistress of all, that can Affection move; If Reason will not suffer us to Love? But since it must be so, I'll haste away, 'Tis Fatal to return, and Death to stay. From you, blest Shades, (if I may call you so Inculpable) with mighty Pain I go. Compell'd from hence, I leave my Quiet here I may find Safety, but I buy it dear. Then turning round, I saw a beauteous Boy, Such as of old were Messengers of Joy: Who art thou, or from whence? if sent, said I, To me, my Haste requires a quick Reply. I come, he cry'd, from yon Celestial Grove, Where stands the Temple of the God of Love: With whose important Favour you are grac'd, And, justly in his high Protection plac'd. Be grateful, Strephon, and obey that God, Whose Scepter ne'er is chang'd into a Rod, That God to whom the haughty, and the proud, The bold, the bravest, nay the best have bow'd: That God, whom all the lesser Gods adore; First in Existence, and the first in Pow'r. From him I come on Embassy divine, To tell thee, Delia, Delia may be thine. To whom all Beauties rightful Tribute pay, Delia the young, the lovely, and the gay. If you dare push your Fortune, if you dare But be resolv'd, and press the yielding Fair. Success, and Glory will your Labours crown; For Fate does rarely on the Valiant frown. But were you sure to be unkindly us'd, Coldly receiv'd, and scornfully refus'd; He greater Glory, and more Fame obtains, Who looses Delia, than who Phillis gains. But to prevent all Fears that may arise, (Tho' Fears ne'er move the Daring and the Wise) In the dark Volumes of eternal Doom, Where all things past, and present, and to come Are writ, I saw these Words; — It is Decreed That Strephon's Love to Delia shall Succeed. What would you more? while Youth and Vigour last, Love, and be happy, they decline too fast: In Youth alone you're capable to prove The mighty Transports of a gen'rous Love. For dull Old Age with fumbling Labour cloys Before the Bliss, or gives but wither'd Joys; Youth's the best time for Action Mortals have, That Past, they touch the Confines of the Grave. Now if you hope to lie in Delia's Arms, To Die in Raptures, and Dissolve in Charms, Quick to the Blissful happy Mansion fly, Where all is one continu'd Extacy. Delia Impatiently expects you there, And sure you will not disappoint the Fair. None but the Impotent, or Old, would stay, When Love Invites, and Beauty calls away. O, you convey, said I, dear charming Boy: Into my Soul a Strange Disorder'd Joy. I would, but dare not your Advice pursue; I've promis'd Reason, and I must be true: Reason's the Rightful Empress of the Soul, Does all Exorbitant Desires controul; Checks ev'ry Wild Excursion of the Mind, By her Wise Dictates, Happily confin'd. And he that will not her Command Obey, Leaves a safe Convoy in a Dang'rous Sea. True, I Love Delia to a vast Excess, But I must try to make my Passion Less: Try, if I can, if Possible, I Will; For I have Vow'd, and must that Vow fulfil. O! had I not, with what a Vig'rous Flight Could I pursue the Quarries of Delight? How could I press Fair Delia in these Arms, Till I dissolv'd in Love, and she in Charms. But now no more must I her Beauties View, Yet Tremble at the Thoughts to leave her too. What would I give, I might my Flame allow? But 'tis forbid by Reason, and a Vow; Two mighty Obstacles; tho' Love of Old Has broke thro' greater, stronger Powers controul'd, Should I offend, by high Example taught, 'Twould not be an inexpiable Fault. The Crimes of Malice have found Grace above, And sure kind Heaven will spare the Crimes of Love, Could'st thou, my Angel, but instruct me how I might be Happy, and not break my Vow, Or by some Subtil Art dissolve the Chain; You'd soon revive my dying Hopes again. Reason and Love, I know, could ne'er Agree, Both would command, and both Superior be. Reason's supported by the Sinewy Force Of Solid Argument, and Wise Discourse; But Love pretends to use no other Arms Than Soft Impressions, and Perswasive Charms. One must be Disobey'd, and shall I prove A Rebel to my Reason or to Love? But then suppose I should my Flame pursue, Delia may be Unkind, and Faithless too; Reject my Passion with a Proud Disdain, And Scorn the Love of such an Humble Swain Then should I labour under Mighty Grief, Beyond all Hopes, or Prospect of Relief: So that methinks 'tis safer to obey Right Reason, tho' she bears a rugged Sway, Than Love's soft Rule, whose Subjects undergo Early or late too sad a share of Woe, Can I so soon forget that wretched Crew, Reason just now expos'd before my View; If Delia should be cruel, I must be A sad Partaker of their Misery: But your Encouragements so strongly move, I'm almost tempted to pursue my Love: For sure, no treacherous Designs should dwell In one that argues, and perswades so well, For what could Love by my Destruction gain? Love's an immortal God, and I a Swain: And sure I may, without Suspicion, trust A God, for Gods can never be unjust. Right you conclude, reply'd the smiling Boy Love ruins none, 'tis Men themselves destroy; And those vile Wretches, which you lately saw, Transgress'd his Rules, as well as Reason's Law. They're not Love's Subjects, but the Slaves of Lust, Nor is their Punishment so great, as just. For Love and Lust essentially divide, Like Day and Night, Humility and Pride; One Darkness hides, t'other does always shine, This of infernal Make, and that divine. Reason no gen'rous Passion does oppose; 'Tis Lust, (not Love) and Reason, that are Foes. She bids you scorn a base inglorious Flame, Black as the gloomy Shade, from whence it came, In this, her Precepts should Obedience find, But yours is not of that ignoble kind. You Err, in thinking she would disapprove The brave Pursuit of honourable Love, And therefore judge what's harmless, an Offence, Invert her Meaning, and mistake her Sense. She could not such insipid Counsel give, As not to love at all, 'tis not to live, But where bright Virtue, and true Beauty lies, And that in Delia, charming Delia's Eyes. Could you, contented, see th' Angelic Maid In old Alexis' dull Embraces laid? Or Rough-hewn Tityrus possess those Charms, Which are in Heaven, the Heaven of Delia's Arms? Consider, Youth, what Transports you forego, The most intire Felicity below; Which is by Fate alone reserv'd for you; Monarchs have been deny'd, for Monarchs sue. I own 'tis difficult to gain the Prize, Or 'twould be cheap, and low in noble Eyes; But there is one soft Minute, when the Mind Is left unguarded, waiting to be kind, Which the wise Lover understanding right, Steals in like Day upon the Wings of Light. You urge your Vow, but can those Vows prevail Whose first Foundation, and whose Reason fail? You vow'd to leave fair Delia, but you thought Your Passion was a Crime, your Flame a Fault; But since your Judgment err'd, it has no Force To bind at all, but is dissolv'd of Course. And therefore hesitate no longer here, But banish all the dull Remains of Fear. Dare you be happy Youth, but dare, and be; I'll be your Convoy to the charming she. What still irresolute? Debating still? View her, and then forsake her if you will. I'll go, said I, once more I'll venture all, 'Tis brave to perish by a noble Fall. Beauty no Mortal can resist, and Jove Laid by his Grandeur, to indulge his Love. Reason, if I do Err, my Crime forgive? Angels alone, without offending live, I go astray, but as the Wise have done, And act a Folly, which they did not shun. Then we, descending to a spacious Plain, Were soon saluted by a num'rous Train Of happy Lovers, who consum'd their Hours, With constant Jollity, in shady Bow'rs. There I beheld the blest Variety Of Joy, from all corroding Troubles free; Each follow'd his own Fancy to Delight; Tho' all went diff'rent Ways, yet all went right, None err'd, or miss'd the Happiness he sought Love to one Center every Twining brought. We past thro' num'rous pleasant Fields, and Glades, By murm'ring Fountains, and by peaceful Shades, Till we approach'd the Confines of the Wood, Where mighty Love's immortal Temple stood, Round the Celestial Fane in goodly Rows, And beauteous Order, am'rous Myrtle grows, Beneath whose Shade, expecting Lovers wait For the kind Minute of indulgent Fate: Each had his Guardian Cupid, whose chief Care, By secret Motions was to warm the Fair, To kindle eager Longings for the Joy, To move the Slow, and to incline the Coy. The glorious Fabrick charm'd my wond'ring Sight, Of vast Extent, and of prodigious Height; The Case was Marble, but the polish'd Stone With such an admirable Lustre shone, As if some Architect Divine had strove T' out-do the Palace of Imperial Jove. The pond'rous Gates of Massy Gold were made With Diamonds of a mighty Size inlaid. Here stood the winged Guards in order plac'd, With shining Darts, and golden Quivers grac'd: As we approach'd, they clap'd their joyful Wings; And cry'd aloud, tune, tune the warbling Strings; The grateful Youth is come to sacrifice At Delia's Altar, to bright Delia's Eyes: With Harmony Divine his Soul inspire, That he may boldly touch the sacred Fire. Hnd ye, that wait upon the blushing Fair, Celestial Incense and Perfumes prepare; While our great God her panting Bosom warms, Refines her Beauties and improves her Charms. Ent'ring the spacious Dome, my ravish'd Eyes A wond'rous Scene of Glory did surprize. The Riches, Symmetry, and Brightness, all Did equally for Admiration call: But the Description is a Labour fit For none beneath a Laureat Angel's Wit. Amidst the Temple was an Altar made Of solid Gold, where Adoration's paid. Here I perform'd the usual Rites with Fear, Not daring boldly to approach too near; Till from the God a smiling Cupid came And bid me touch the consecrated Flame; Which done, my Guide my eager Steps convey'd To the Apartment of the beauteous Maid. Before the Entrance was her Altar rais'd, On Pedestals of polish'd Marble plac'd. By it, her Guardian Cupid always stands, Who Troops of missionary Loves commands. To him with soft Addresses all repair; Each for his Captive humbly begs the Fair; Tho' still in vain they importun'd, for he Would give Encouragement to none, but me. There stands the Youth, he cry'd, must taste the Bliss, The lovely Delia can be none, but his, Fate has selected him, and mighty Love Confirms below, what that decrees above. Then press no more, there's not another Swain On Earth, but Strephon can bright Delia gain. Kneel Youth, and with a grateful Mind renew Your Vows, swear you'll eternally be true: But if you dare be false, dare perjur'd prove, You'll find in sure Revenge, affronted Love, As hot, as fierce, as terrible as Jove. Hear me, ye Gods, said I, now hear me swear By all that's sacred, and by all that's fair! If I prove false to Delia, let me fall The common Obloquy, condemn'd by all. Let me the utmost of your Vengeance try, Forc'd to live wretched, and unpity'd die. Then he expos'd the lovely, sleeping Maid Upon a Couch of New-blown Roses laid. The blushing Colour in her Cheeks exprest, What tender Thoughts inspir'd her heaving Breast. Sometimes a Sigh half smother'd stole away, Then she would Strephon, charming Strephon say. Sometimes she smiling cry'd, you love, 'tis true; But will you always, and be faithful too? Ten Thousand Graces play'd about her Face, Ten Thousand Charms attended ev'ry Grace Each admirable Feature did impart A secret Rapture to my throbbing Heart. The Nymph imprison'd in the brazen Tower, When Jove descended in a Golden Shower, Less beautiful appear'd, and yet her Eyes Brought down that God from the neglected Skies. So moving, so transporting was the Sight, So much a Goddess Delia seem'd, so bright, My ravish'd Soul with secret Wonder fraught, Lay all dissolv'd in Extacy of Thought. Long time I gaz'd, but as I trembling drew Nearer, to take a more obliging View: It thunder'd loud, and the ungrateful Noise Wak'd me, and put an end to all my Joys.