Or as Ixion fix'd, the Wretch ſhall feel
The giddy Motion of the whirling Mill,
Midſt Fumes of burning Chocolate ſhall glow,
And tremble at the Sea that froaths below!
He ſpoke; the Spirits from the Sails deſcend;
Some, Orb in Orb, around the Nymph extend,
Some thrid the mazy Ringlets of her Hair,
Some hang upon the Pendants of her Ear;
With beating Hearts the dire Event they wait,
Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate.
T H E