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With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,
And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire.
Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize:
The pow'rs gave ear, and granted half his pray'r,
The rest the winds dispers'd in empty air.
But now secure the painted vessel glides, The sun-beams trembling on the floating tides; While melting music steals upon the sky, And soften'd sounds along the waters die: Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play, Belinda smil'd, and all the world was gay. All but the sylph—with careful thoughts opprest, Th' impending wo sat heavy on his breast. He summons straight his denizens of air; The lucid squadrons round the sails repair:
Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
'Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear,
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, hear!