TO MONESES Singing.

BE hush'd as Death, Moneses sings,
 Moneses strikes the sounding Strings;
 Let sacred Silence dwell around,
 And nought disturb the Magick Sound;
 Let not the softly whisp'ring Breeze
 Sob amidst the rustling Trees;
 Murmur, ye plaintive Streams, no more,
 But glide in Silence to the Shore:
 Even Philomel thy Note suspend,
 And to a sweeter Song attend;
 Ah! soft, ah! dang'rous, pow'rful Charm,
 An Angel's Voice, an Angel's Form;
 Attentive to the heav'nly Lay,
 I hear and gaze my Soul away;
 Now tender Wishes, melting Fires,
 Infant Pains, and young Desires,
 Steal into my softned Soul,
 And bend it to the sweet Controul;
 Yet, let me fly, e'er 'tis too late,
 The sweet Disease, and shun my Fate. 
But ah! that softly, dying Strain
 Arrests my Steps, I strive in vain. 
Again I to the Syren turn,
 Again with gentle Fires I burn;
 Cease lovely Youth th' inchanting Sound,
 Too deep already is the Wound;
 Thro' all my Veins the Poison steals,
 My Heart the dear Infection feels:
 I faint, I die, by love opprest,
 The Sigh scarce heaves my panting Breast;
 Before my View dim Shadows rise,
 And hides Thee from my ravish'd Eyes:
 Thy Voice, like distant Sounds, I hear,
 It dies in murmurs on my Ear:
 In the too pow'rful Transport tost,
 Ev'n Thought, and ev'ry Sense is lost.