Thou. Like the fair moon, thy mild and genuine ray through life's long evening shall unclouded last; while pleasure's frail attachments fleet away, as fades the rainbow from the northern blast. 'tis thine, 0 Nymph. With 'balmy hands to bind' the wounds inflicted in misfortune's storm, and blunt severe affliction's sharpest dart. 'Tis thy pure spirit warms the seven's mind, beams through the pensive softness of their form, and holds its altar on their spotless heart.