Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease,
He cast his looks, fall grimly them among.
At length, he firmly knit what might appease
His brow; looked stedfastly and long
At one, till all their eyes with his eyes met alike
On fair Vitullia, who his heart did strike.
Vitullia fair, yet brown; as mixed together
As Art and Nature strove which was the purest.
So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either!