ABSTRACT
Wrong-625 o sing, and hush the Nations with thy Song I
Resistless falls: The Muse obeys the Pow'r. She comes I she comes I the sable Throne behold Of Night Primreval, and of Chaos old I 630 Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying Rain-bows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, 635 The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain; As Argus' eyes by Hermes' wand opprest, Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest; Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, Art after Art goes out, and all is Night. 640
And Virgil, lEn. 7 (645-6), Et meministis enim, Diva, & memorare potestis: Ad nos vix tenuis jamtJJ perlabitur aura.
