And nymphs and sylvans in the scented groves
(Where demons us'd to haunt the thorny shade)
Assemble blithe, and sweep th' unfolded glade.
In freedom's train, the ever-formost band,
The jocund muses skim the happy land.
Sweet Poesy precedes the virgin quire
Calls inspiration with her sounding lyre:
Gives to awaken'd verse th' auspicious morn,
Whose mid-day fire shall quicken bards unborn.
In the full suffrage of immortal strains