And with false glare impose upon the view?
LIII.
For sure, of all who feel my genial gale,
Or to the sun their fragrant breasts unfold,
The best and sweetest that on earth prevail,
Yet do I not in this fair court behold.
LIV.
He said; and Flora, rising from her throne,
Bade present search for ev’ry one be made:
Who, though their off’rings on her altar shone,