Come, mistress of superior grace,
Daughter in hour sublime of Jove!
O'er the strong features of whose face
With air of distant awe we rove:
While mingling softness to the eye
Seems o'er each lineament to fly;
As when the sun's resplendent rays
In summer glow with redd'ning blaze,
A floating blue-ting'd cloud does interveen,
And thro' a veil the sire of light is seen.