With many a verdant rush her couch was spread;
A gourd with blushing fruits was near her placed,
Whose scent and colour woo’d alike her taste;
And round her strewn there bloom’d unnumber’d flowers
Charming her sense with aromatic powers.
One only object chill’d her blood with ear:
Far off removed (but still, alas! too near),
Scarce breathing, lest a breath her sleep might break,
There stood the fiend, and watch’d to see her wake.
In sooth, if credit outward show might crave,