[[51-3]]
in Joy's bright nectar dips
The flamy rose, and plants it on her lips!
Tender, serene, and all devoid of guile,
Soft is her soul, as sleeping infants' smile.
She speaks, &c.
1796, 1803.
[[54]]
still those mazy notes 1796, 1803.
[[55-6]]
Sweet as th' angelic harps, whose rapturous falls
Awake the soften'd echoes of Heaven's Halls.
1796, 1803.
[[86]]
thy] a 1796, 1803.