The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow,

I Shall Be But A Shrimp Of An Author.

And Hie Him Home, At Evening's Close, To Sweet Repast And Calm Repose.

For Who, To Dumb Forgetfulness A Prey, This Pleasing Anxious Being E'er Resign'd, Left The Warm Precincts Of The Cheerful Day, Nor Cast One Longing Ling'ring Look Behind?

Daughter Of Jove, Relentless Power, Thou Tamer Of The Human Breast, Whose Iron Scourge And Tort'ring Hour The Bad Affright, Afflict The Best!

To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance Their Many-twinkling Feet.