When thou, with magic touch, the gates unbar,
And bid to rest that struggling little star—
Last in the field of night, which fain would stay
To see the beauties of th’ advancing day
But weak in its endeavours to withstand
The saffron firmament, holds forth its hand
To shield its face from the bedimming flood;
And in its turn forsakes the neighbourhood
Of heaven.) And now she ’lights among the gods:
To every one she, sweet enchantress, nods;