The scant gold locks which gilt his ivory brow,
Were sun-beams gleaming on a globe of snow;
And on his coral lips the red which stood,
Shamed the first rose, whose milk was Paphia’s blood.
By fairy-thefts since nurses were beguiled,
Never stole fairy yet a lovelier child!
In Nature’s costlier charms no babe array’d,
At length a mother’s fears and throes repaid:
Not when Lucina first in myrtle grove,
To Beauty’s kiss presented new-born Love;