Now I lie folded in Corinna's arms,And all her soul is mine, and all her charms;I now am to her panting bosom press'd,And now, if ever lover was, am bless'd.As yet sweet sleep sits heavy on our eyes,And warbling birds forbid, as yet to rise.Stay, beauteous morning, for to love-sick maidsAnd youths, how grateful are these dusky shades!All stay, and do not, from the blushing east,With dawning glories break our balmy rest.When night's black mantle does those glories hide,The pilot by the stars his ship can guide,And in mid-sea a certain course pursue,As safe as when he has the sun in view.What pleasure in thy light should mortals take?Thou dost the weary traveller awake;Though to the down his heavy head reclines,Up he must lift it for the morning shines.