Like swift Camilla, he scarce skimmed the ground,[713]
And rather held in than put forth his vigour;
And then he had an ear for Music's sound,
Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour.
Such classic pas—sans flaws—set off our hero,
He glanced like a personified Bolero;[714]
XL.
Or like a flying Hour before Aurora,
In Guido's famous fresco[715] (which alone
Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a