Th’ expecting Mouth, and now with grateful Tast,
The ebbing Wine glides swiftly o’re the Tongue,
The circling Blood with quicker motion flies;
Such is thy pow’rful influence, thou strait
Dispell’dst those Clouds that lowring dark eclips’d
To whilom Glories of our gladsom Face
And dimpled Cheeks, and sparkling rolling Eyes,
Thy cheering Virtues, and thy worth proclaim.
So Mists and Exhalations that arise
From Hills or streamy Lake, Dusky or Gray