NARCISSA. TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF P——1 Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.-VIRG. 1 'P' Portland. NIGHT THIRD. NARCISSA. FROM dreams, where thought in fancy's maze runs mad, Once more I wake; and at the destined hour, I keep my assignation with my woe. Communion sweet! communion large and high! Then nearest these, when others most remote ; Now woo them, wed them, bind them to thy breast; Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend— But friends, how mortal! dangerous the desire. 10 Take Phoebus to yourselves, ye basking bards! Where sense runs savage, broke from reason's chain, I to Day's soft-eyed sister pay my court In silent hour address your ardent call Didst lately borrow:' at the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade. 19 30 40 50 |