Who gav'st them power to charm, and me to sing,
Chief to thy praise my willing numbers soar,
And in my happier transports I adore;
Mercy thy softest attribute proclaim,
Thyself in abstract, thy more lovely name;
180
That flings o'er all my grief a cheering ray,
As the foil moon-beam gilds the watery way.
And then too, Love, my soul's resistless lord,
Shall many a gentle, generous strain afford,