4
Moderation
No sooner was arriv'd the Welcome Guest,
But him in soothing Terms, she thus addrest:
Hail best Belov'd of all my Sons, Receive
What Praise, what Joy these Gloomy Realms can give;
For 'tis to thy Successful Arts I owe
My Reign above, my Triumph here below.
This said, th' Unbodied Shade obsequious kneel'd,
Struck with Amazement, and with Rapture fill'd.
O Mighty Queen! Permit me to Adore
Thy Awful Shrine, thy all Informing Pow'r,
Whose nearer Influence my Breast Inspires
With Glorious Rage and Mischievous Desires.
'Twas in Thy Cause I sunk a mouldring Frame,
Unequal to the Hardy Task of Fame.
But
