And thou, O Queen of soft desires,
Whose radiant smiles dispel the gloom of care,
And kindling friendship's purest fires,
Chase from the soul Suspicion, Doubt, and Fear,
Those griesly forms: O come, bewitching Power,
Come gently, o'er the bridal bed
In genial dews thy choicest pleasures shower;
Such as in Arcady's voluptuous shade
Lycaeus felt, when stretch'd on Maia's breast
An image of himself th' enraptur'd God imprest.