ELEGY XII. His recantation

No more the Muse obtrudes her thin disguise, No more with awkward fallacy complains How ev'ry fervour from my bosom flies, And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns.

Ere the chill winter of our days arrive, No more she paints the breast from passion free; I feel, I feel one loit'ring wish survive— Ah! need I, Florio, name that wish to thee?

The star of Venus ushers in the day, The first, the loveliest of the train that shine! The star of Venus lends her brightest ray, When other stars their friendly beams resign.

Still in my breast one soft desire remains, Pure as that star, from guilt, from int'rest, free; Has gentle Delia tripp'd across the plains, And need I, Florio, name that wish to thee?

While, cloy'd to find the scenes of life the same, I tune with careless hand my languid lays, Some secret impulse wakes my former flame, And fires my strain with hopes of brighter days.

I slept not long beneath yon' rural bow'rs, And, lo! my crook with flow'rs adorn'd I see; Has gentle Delia bound my crook with flow'rs, And need I, Florio, name my hopes to thee?