Come, Goddess, feast my longing sight,
Let me direct thy pleasing flight;
Whate'er voluptuous slaves could boast
On fair Phaeacia's sunny coast,
Whate'er the poet's fancy taught,
Or imag'd to his wanton thought:
For thee a happier fate remains;
You still shall view more blissful plains,
Where the soft guardian of thy charms
Expects thee to his longing arms:
He shall with fixt attention gaze,
Shall crown thee with immortal bays,
With lenient hand thy cares assuage,
Protect thee from Time's lawless rage,
The taunt of scorn, the dark revile,
The languid, faint-approving smile,
The noise of Mirth, the plaintive sigh,
And simpering Folly's heedless eye.