Pseudo-Platonica

"Thou wert the morning star among the living, Ere thy fair light had fled;— Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving New splendour to the dead."

"Within the shady grove we chanced to peep, And caught Cythera’s rosy boy asleep: None of his brave artillery had he, But bow and quiver hung upon a tree; While he on rosebuds smiling lay, in warm Slumber fast bound; and o’er his lips a swarm Of honey bees laid sweets and wrought no harm."

"Hushed be on Dryads’ wooded rock the rills, And hushed the bleatings on the meads, Now Pan his pipe with breath melodious fills And kisses with moist lip the reeds; While, treading nimble dances all around, Dryads and Hamadryads beat the ground."

"Thou gazest on the stars: Would I might be, O star of mine, the skies With myriad eyes To gaze on thee."