Of dove-like Delia, when her doubts reposed;
Mira's alone a softer lustre bear,
When wo beguiles them of an angel's tear;
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Beauteous and young the smiling phantom stood,
Then sought on airy wing his blest abode.
Ah! truth distasteful in poetic theme,
Why is the Muse compell'd to own her dream?
Whilst forward wits had sworn to every line,
I only wish to make its moral mine.