[ 8i ] 



They call thee, with a dufky cloud, 



Thy beauteous face to ftroud ; 



'Till the nightly fpoil is won, 



'Till the fcaft of blood is done, 



'Till the hand of fleep is fpread 



O'er the eye-ball glaring red, 



And deep within his den the glutted favage lies. 



Nor beafts alone that prowl for food, 



More favage men thine influence feel : 



Thy virgin prefence daunts 



The robber, in his haunts ; 



Th' afl:aflin flays th' uplifted fteel, 



And, when he fees the vidim nigh. 



And when the poniard thirfts for blood, 



Smote by thy facred eye. 



He feels an icy dart 

 Transfix his coward heart, 

 And flies. 



IX. 



At thine awful call. 



From their wat'ry hall. 



Where pillar'd waves fuftain the dome. 



And fretted vaults of fculptur'd foam ; 



The rifing Tritons pipe around. 



Their After Nereids at the found advance, 



They join in myftic dance. 

 And roll the treafures of the vaft profound, 



[L] An 



