Behold Now This Vast City

As In An Organ From One Blast Of Wind To Many A Row Of Pipes The Soundboard Breathes.

Taste This, And Be Henceforth Among The Gods Thyself A Goddess.

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?

Implied Subjection, But Requir'd With Gentle Sway, And By Her Yielded, By Him Best Receiv'd,- Yielded With Coy Submission, Modest Pride, And Sweet, Reluctant, Amorous Delay.

The Timely Dew Of Sleep Now Falling With Soft Slumb'rous Weight Inclines Our Eyelids.