Classic Poem

But Jove at length with just Resentment fir'd,
The laughing Queen her self with Love inspir'd.
Swift thro' her Veins the sweet Contagion ran,
And kindled in her Breast Desire of mortal Man;
That she, like other Deities, might prove
The Pains and Pleasures of inferior Love;
And not insultingly the Gods deride,
Whose Sons were human by the Mother's side:
Thus, Jove ordain'd she now for Man should burn,
And bring forth Mortal Off-spring in her turn.

Amongst the Springs which flow from Ida's Head,
His lowing Herds the young Anchises fed:
Whose godlike Form and Face the smiling Queen
Beheld, and lov'd to Madness soon as seen.
To Cyprus , strait the wounded Goddess flies,
Where Paphian Temples in her Honour rise,
And Altars smoke with daily Sacrifice.
Soon as arriv'd, she to her Shrine repair'd,
Where entring quick, the shining Gates she barr'd.
The ready Graces wait, her Baths prepare,
And oint with fragrant Oils her flowing Hair;
Her flowing Hair around her Shoulders spreads,
And all adown, Ambrosial Odour sheds.
Last, in transparent Robes her Limbs they fold,
Enrich'd with Ornaments of purest Gold.
And thus attir'd, her Chariot she ascends,
And Cyprus left, her Flight to Troy she bends.

On Ida she alights, then seeks the Seat
Which lov'd Anchises chose for his Retreat:
And ever as she walk'd thro' Lawn or Wood,
Promiscuous Herds of Beasts admiring stood.
Some humbly follow, while some fawning meet,
And lick the Ground, and crouch beneath her Feet.
Dogs, Lions, Wolves and Bears their Eyes unite,
And the swift Panther stops to gaze with fix'd Delight.
For, ev'ry Glance she gives, soft Fire imparts,
Enkindling sweet Desire in Savage Hearts.
Inflam'd with Love, all single out their Mates,
And to their shady Dens each Pair retreats.

Mean time the Tent she spies so much desir'd,
Where her Anchises was alone retir'd;
Withdrawn from all his Friends, and Fellow-Swains,
Who fed their Flocks beneath, and sought the Plains:
In pleasing Solitude the Youth she found,
Intent upon his Lyre's harmonious Sound.
Before his Eyes Jove 's beauteous Daughter stood,
In Form and Dress, a Huntress of the Wood;
For had he seen the Goddess undisguis'd,
The Youth with Awe and Fear had been surpriz'd.
Fix'd he beheld her, and with Joy admir'd
To see a Nymph so bright, and so attir'd.
For from her flowing Robe a Lustre spread,
As if with radiant Flame she were array'd;
Her Hair in part disclos'd, in part conceal'd,
In Ringlets fell, or was with Jewels held;
With various Gold and Gems her Neck was grac'd,
And orient Pearls heav'd on her panting Breast:
Bright as the Moon she shone, with silent Light,
And charm'd his Sense with Wonder and Delight.