The mount where old Homer has station'd Apollo:
With the star which leads on while
the jolly hours follow.
That goddess refulgent whose far beaming rays,
Dart full upon error's dark midnight their blaze.
The dame with whom Phoebus sups nightly below:
And what the girls mean when they cry out no, no.

Then take, dearest creatures, what all will confess
Is a charming profusion you sweetly possess.
What old father Adam as pensive he stood
Of all situations pronounced not good.
That word of all words the most hideous I know
Which can from the lips of a pretty girl flow.
The season of life when the loves & the graces
Play round your dear bosoms & smile in your faces.
When the lark hies to rest and the woodman retires,
And Vesper shines brightest 'mong million of fires.
The enigma to close -- add the name of a maiden
The child of Bethuel and sister of Laban.

Her breath aromatic surpasses the gales
When fraught with the sweets of ten thousand
sweet vales.

Her brow the lake's smoothness exhibits serene,
Its calm representing the sunshine within.
The graces still flutter about & about her,
While the loves all declare that they can't
live without her.