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When Venus, vexed to see her child
Amid the forests thus run wild,
Would point him out some nobler game, —
Where the sister Muses round
Swell the deep majestic sound;
And in solemn strains unite,
Breathing chaste, severe delight;
Songs of chiefs and heroes old,
In unsubmitting virtue bold:
Of even valour's temperate heat,
And toils, to stubborn patience sweet;
Of nodding plumes and burnished arms,
And glory's bright terrific charms.
The potent sounds like lightning dart
Of power to lift the fixed soul
High o'er Fortune's proud controul;
Beheld each chaste immortal maid :
Pallas spread her Egis there ;
With sudden chill his bosom struck.
Daughters of Jove, receive the child,”
“ Receive him, artless yet and young;
Refine his air, and smooth his tongue :
Conduct him through your favourite bowers,
Teach him to spell those mystic names
And guide his young unpractised feet
Ah, luckless hour! mistaken maids,
When Cupid sought the Muse's shades !
Twice ten thousand times to wound.
Now no more the slackened strings
But Cupid tunes the Muse's lyre
every clime, in every tongue,
Abandoned Dido's fruitless prayer;
And Eloisa's long despair;
The garland, blest with many a vow,
That Petrarch laid on Laura's herse.
But more than all the sister quire,
And where the Tweed's pure current glides,
'Tis yours to cull with happy art Each meaning verse that speaks the heart; And fair arrayed, in order meet,
To lay the wreath at Beauty's feet.