Cut like a bending arch; whence for more grace
(As t'were the native porter of the place)
Green ivy wreath'd in many a subtile knot
Hung dangling: fore the entry of the grot-
With streams of liquid pearl, (the humid son
Of some large torrent) a small brook does run,
Which, on the pebbles as it purling plays,
Does so harmonious a murmur raise,
Tun'd to so just a pitch, as dares defy
The birds' sweet notes, and with the lute may vie.
I'th' mid'st of this vast cave, (which seems to prop
With its arch'd back th' whole mountain) tow'rd

the top

Opens a spacious vent; through which, its flight
The damp air takes, entrance, the Sun's warm light.
The rude walls ivy, creeping round about,

With a green suit of tap'stry hangs throughout.
The goddess, which in heaven's third orb does shine,
Did to these shades her amorous thefts confine.
Here her delights secur'd; whose passions prove
Her more the servant, than the queen of love.
Here Mars to war oft taught she in love's field,
With other weapons than with spear and shield ; - -
Whilst 'bout his sinewy neck her arms she wound,
And his rough limbs in those soft fetters bound.
Here once three naked goddesses ('tis said)
With censuring eyes the Phrygian swain survey'd;
Whose judgement in that memorable strife
Gain'd him the beauteous Helen for his wife,
And gave to lovely Venus uncontroll'd
The prize of beauty, and the fruit of gold.
And here at last the winged son of Jove
And Maia, sported with the queen of love;
Who, in these shades, (if fame have truth reveal'd)
And her soft bosom, long time lay conceal'd.

Mean while great Jove, wond'ring at his neglect,
(Who of some message did return expect)
Thus with himself discours'd 'bout his long stay:
"Sure he lies lurking for some hop'd-for prey,
Or his light wings (doubtless h' had else return'd)
He in the sea hath wet, or fire hath burn'd."
True, Jove; he lurking lay, but in the shade
Of Venus' arms; whilst on her lips he prey'd.

Rr