When Suns by thousands shone in Orbs of Dew,
I wafted soft with  flew;
Saw the clean Pail, and sought the milky Chear,
While little  seiz'd my roving Dear.
Wretch that I was! I might have warn'd the Dame,
Yet sat indulging as the Danger came,
But the kind Huntress left her free to soar:
Ah! guard, ye  guard a Mistress more.