Nor high, nor low, thy subtle darts can brave.
Lucina felt the agonizing pain,
Then hopeless sunk amid the rapid wave.
She was of Annon’s lovely nymphs the grace,
Of charms superior to the crowd possess’d:
Her shape was faultless, matchless fair her face,
Her virtues bright, by Envy’s self confest.
Of all the sprightly youths that sought to gain
The envi’d conquest of her virgin heart,
Philander prov’d the dear distinguish’d swain,