AIR XIX.
[_]
Tune, “Two Gossips they luckily met.”
I
The Indies thy Toilet shall grace;
For thee shall earth, ocean, and air,
From the gin, and the net, and the chace,
Each costly collation prepare.
II
All seasons their sweets shall dispense,
And a round of long happiness roll;
And bliss, through the gates of each sense,
Shall enter and mix with thy soul.
III
Fair Phœbe shall light up her horn,
To watch the repose of thy charms;
And each blushing and rapturous morn
Shall find thee reclin'd in my arms.