Who lords it over savage seas, the realms555
Of gloomy Dis, and draws the gods to earth?
Seneca: 'Tis by our human error that we paint
Love as a god, wingéd, implacable,
And arm his sacred hands with darts and bow,
Assign him blazing torches, count him son
Of fostering Venus and of Vulcan. Nay,560
But love is of the heart's compelling power,
A fond and cozening passion of the soul;
Of hot youth is it born, and in the lap