228 HISTORY OF THE [book 
The ladies look’d extremely shy, 
Apollo’s smile was arch and sly. 
But not one word they said: 
I gaz’d,—sure, silence is consent,— 
I made my bow, away I went; 
Was not my duty paid? 
Come to my bosom, genial fire. 
Soft sounds, and lively thoughts inspire 3 
Unusual is my theme 3 
Not such dissolving Ovid sung, 
Nor melting Sappho’s glowing tongue,— 
More dainty mine I deem. 
Sweet is the beam of morning bright. 
Yet sweet the sober shade of night; 
On rich Angola’s shores, 
While beauty clad in sable dye. 
Enchanting fires the wond’ring eye. 
Farewell ye Paphian bow’rs. 
O sable queen! thy mild domain 
I seek, and court thy gentle reign. 
So soothing, soft, and sweet; 
Where melting love, sincere delight. 
Fond pleasure, ready joys invite. 
And unbought raptures meet. 
IV. 
