Or Venus, love, and beauty's smile;
I choose a theme not less divine,—
The plant that grows in Cuba's Isle.
The old Greeks err'd who bound with bays
Apollo's brow; the verdant crown
He wore, when measuring their days,
Grew in the West, where he went down.
An idle tale they also told;
They said he gave them frankincense,
Borne by some tree he loved of old;