Revolving Venus, Empress of the globes,
Extremely beautiful, in purple robes,
Came now majestically o’er the sward;
In rev’rence to the dead, spoke not a word:
Though, in her joy, her voice was like a lute,
She wept in silence, and remainèd mute:
Her rosy crown with jew’ls shone like the Sun,
And tipp’d her tear-drops as they trickled down:
On either side a Cupid, doubly fair,
Bore up the tresses of her golden hair;