Take the name of that hero who dreadful in war
Spread the terror of Rome thro the nations afar,
With the King of the fairies that sly jealous sprite
Who sleeps all the day but who gambols all night
Green caty-dids draw him - a nutshell contains him,
His kingdom a meadow & a dewdrop sustains him.

What the peasant enjoys when his labor is o'er
And the seaboy embraces the hurricane's roar.

What the pretty girls cry tho their meaning is yes
When swains at their feet ask the boon of a kiss.

That period of day when gay Phoebus retires
To the arms of his Thetis to meet keener fires.

That passion delightful which thrilling imparts
Feelings more than ecstatic to congenial hearts,
Which arouses to fury - and lulls to repose
Is keen as the thorn yet as sweet as the rose.

The goddess white-robed by whom unbefriended
Even beauty and wit pass along unattended.

That goddess refulgent whose glance pours the day,
Where midnight, and error, and ignorance lay.

The chief who rush'd bold thro the Granican flood
While the fates pale with fear on the shore
      trembling stood.

What each one pursues tho but few can obtain
And ever repays its possession with pain.

What wrings the kind heart when distress is in view
And what each observer discovers in you.

And lastly that word which no lover can bear
Nor I from this charmer with patience can hear.