When Phœbus first emits his infant rays;
More radiant beauties do her mind adorn,
Than ere were brighten’d by his noon-tide blaze.
Fair Virtue, cloth’d in all it’s native sweets,
Celestial precepts in her breast inlaid;
And oft, as friendly intercourse invites,
In softest accents from her lips convey’d.
But now she’s gone, a sullen sadness reigns!
Absorb’d in grief we still her absence mourn,
Or beg that heaven would smile upon our plains,