O the dear gloom of last propitious night!
O shade more charming than the fairest light!
Then in my arms I clasp'd the melting maid,
Then all my pains one moment overpaid;
Then first the sweet excess of bliss I prov'd,
Which none can taste but who like me have lov'd,
Thou too, bright goddess, once in Ida's grove,
Didst not disdain to meet a shepherd's love,
With him while frisking lambs around you play'd,
Conceal'd you sported in the secret shade;
Scarce cou'd Anchises' raptures equal mine,
And Delia's beauties only yield to thine.