THE QUEEN OP BEAUTT AND OP LOVE. 71 
Come to us in a cloud of flowers,— 
Around our hearts their sweets diffuse ; 
Making them like Olympian bowers, 
Where pearly blend with rosy hues. 
Appear as when, through morning dews, 
Thou didst thy mourned Adonis chase, 
l 
An d he (poor hunter) did refuse 
To kiss thy never-equalled face,— 
But struggled in thy warm embrace. 
Appear as on Olympus’ brow, 
When all the gods in love were driven, 
And swore, by thy cheeks’ rosy glow, 
That every heart was rent and riven— 
That thou wert Love, and Love was heaven. 
And that the regions of the blest 
Were unto thee for ever given— 
That he who sank upon thy breast, 
Would never seek another rest. 
Descend as when on Ida’s hill 
Thou there didst win the golden prize, 
When beardless Paris felt a thrill 
Go through him from thy azure eyes, 
Down-glancing like the morning skies, 
When all the world in sleep reposes, 
Saving Aurora, who doth rise, 
And to the wondering stars discloses 
The couch that’s curtained round with roses. 
