The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems

The reverend, rich-crown’d, and fair Queen I sing, Venus, that owes ill fate the fortressing Of all maritimal Cyprus; where the force Of gentle-breathing Zephyr steer’d her course Along the waves of the resounding sea, While, yet unborn, in that soft foam she lay That brought her forth; whom those fair Hours that bear The golden bridles joyfully stood near, Took up into their arms, and put on her Weeds of a never-corruptible wear. On her immortal head a crown they plac’d, Elaborate, and with all the beauties grac’d That gold could give it; of a weight so great, That, to impose and take off, it had set Three handles on it, made, for endless hold, Of shining brass, and all adorn’d with gold. Her soft neck all with carquenets was grac’d, That stoop’d, and both her silver breasts embrac’d, Which even the Hours themselves wear in resort To Deities’ dances, and her Father’s court. Grac’d at all parts, they brought to heaven her graces; Whose first sight seen, all fell into embraces, Hugg’d her white hands, saluted, wishing all To wear her maiden flow’r in festival Of sacred Hymen, and to lead her home; All, to all admiration, overcome With Cytherea with the violet crown. So to the Black-brow’d Sweet-spoke all renown! Prepare my song, and give me, in the end, The victory to whose palm all contend! So shall my Muse for ever honour thee, And, for thy sake, thy fair posterity.