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OF TEMPER.
47


So, at the magic of Serena's strain,
Spleen vanish'd from her sire's chaotic brain;
Whose fibres, lighten'd of that load, rejoice
In the dear accents of her dulcet voice,
Much he inclines his mandate to recall,
And send the fair-one to the promis'd ball;
But stubborn pride forbids him to revoke
The solemn sentence which ill humour spoke.
Still conscious of her power, the nymph prolongs
The soft enchantment of her soothing songs;
Which his fond mind in firm attention keep,
To his fixt hour of supper and of sleep:
This now arriv'd, the knight, retiring, shed
A double blessing on his darling's head;
And with unusual exultation prest
His lovely child to his parental breast.
Thus while to rest the happy sire withdrew,
The nymph, more happy, to her chamber flew;
And, Jenny now dismiss'd, the grateful fair
Breathes to her guardian Sprite this tender prayer: