EVENING: AN ODE.

Evening now, from purple wings, Sheds the grateful gifts she brings; Brilliant drops bedeck the mead, Cooling breezes shake the reed— Shake the reed, and curl the stream, Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam; Near, the chequer'd, lonely grove, Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love. Stella, thither let us stray Lightly o'er the dewy way! Phoebus drives his burning car, Hence, my lovely Stella, far; In his stead, the Queen of Night Round us pours a lambent light; Light that seems but just to show Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow; Let us now, in whisper'd joy, Evening's silent hours employ, Silence best, and conscious shades, Please the hearts that love invades; Other pleasures give them pain, Lovers all but love disdain.