This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
112
THE TRIUMPHS


As thus she spoke, she pois'd her airy seat
High o'er a plain exhaling every sweet;
For round its precincts all the flowers that bloom
Fill'd the delicious air with rich perfume;
And in the midst a verdant throne appear'd,
In simplest form by graceful fancy rear'd,
And deck'd with flowers; not such whose flaunting dyes
Strike with the strongest tint our dazzled eyes;
But those wild herbs that tenderest fibres bear,
And shun th' approaches of a damper air.
Here stood the lovely ruler of the scene,
And beauty, more than pomp, announc'd the queen.
The bending snow-drop, and the briar-rose,
The simple circle of her crown compose;
Roses of every hue her robe adorn,
Except th' insipid rose without a thorn.
Thro' her thin vest her heighten'd beauties shine;
For earthly gauze was never half so fine.
Of that enchanting age her figure seems,
When smiling nature with the vital beams