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In all the beauteous glow of blooming years,
Beside each king a warrior Nymph appears;
Each with her sword her valiant lover guards,
With smiles inspires him, and with smiles rewards.
Such was the valour of the beauteous maid,
Whose warlike arm proud Ilion's fate delay'd:
Such in the field the virgin warriors shone,
Who drank the limpid wave of Thermodon.
'Twas morn's still hour, before the dawning grey
The stars bright twinkling radiance died away;
When lo, resplendent in the heaven serene,
High o'er the prince the sacred cross was seen;
The godlike prince with faith's warm glow inflamed,
Oh, not to me, my bounteous God! exclaim'd,
Oh,
