ALL Blessings, but a Child, had Heav'n supply'd;
And only that th'Almighty had deny'd:
Which when the holy prescient Sage had heard,
He said, and I before him strait appear'd:
And, as my Feet approach'd his awful Room,
I saw his Face diviner Looks assume;
Not such a Wildness, and fanatic Mien,
With which, some say, the  Priests are seen;
When they, for Mysteries of Fate, explain
The odd Chimera's of a frantic Brain;
But with a grave majestic Air he stood,
While more than human in his Aspect glow'd;
Celestial Grace sat on his radiant Look,
And Pow'r diffusive shone, before he spoke.
Then thus: "Hail, gen'rous Soul! Thy pious Cares
" Are not forgot, nor fruitless are thy Pray'rs:
"Propitious Heav'n, thy virtuous Deeds to crown,
" Shall make thy barren Womb conceive a Son. "
So spake the Seer; and, to complete my Joy,
As he had spoke, I bore the promis'd Boy.