I did not err, a Choir of Loves
Sublime in air attune th' enchanting lay;
They leave Idalia's blooming groves,
And Cypria's myrtle shades, where jocund stray
The Graces, Smiles, and Hours, where Nature's care
Profusely kind allures the sight,
And wraps the sense in bliss: ye Virgins fair
Of Britain's Isle, sweet daughters of delight,
Receive the cherub throng, to you they fly
With welcome tidings fraught, blest harbingers of Joy.