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EFFUSION XXVI.
CUPID, if storying[1] Legends tell aright,
Once fram'd a rich Elixir of Delight.
A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fix'd,
And in it Nectar and Ambrosia mix'd:
With these the magic dews, which Evening brings,
Brush'd from the Idalian star by faery wings:
Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he join'd,
Each gentler Pleasure of th' unspotted mind—
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow
And Hope, the blameless Parasite of Woe.
The eyeless Chemist heard the process rife,
The steamy Chalice bubbled up in sighs;
Sweet sounds transpir'd, as when the enamour'd Dove
Pours the soft murm'ring of responsive Love.
