IV.

Then from his Seat Apollo rose,
And softly breathing mystick Charms,
The new made Immaterial did enclose
In his resulgent Arms.
Be Thou my darling Son, said he,
Excelling all in Harmony,
Vast be thy Genius, sparkling ev'ry Day
Ia Mountague, let Wit and Learning thine
And let his Fame outrival all the New.
Then with a Smile the insant Soul obeyd,
Unto the charming Scientiyck Maid,
Who claspd it to her Bosom, while round
The wond'ring Deities resort,
And in Minerva's Arms the Heroe crown'd,
With all the Blessings of the Fovian Court:
Mountague! they echo round,
Admire the future Man, and dwell upon the Sound.