"Fear! threatening this Conjunction dread, thy part; aye, truly thine!"
Her hair with ambergris perfumed was waving o'er her cheek,
On many grieving, passioned souls it cruel woe did wreak;
Her graceful form and many charms my wildered heart made weak;
The eye beheld her figure fair, then heart and soul did seek.
"Ah! what bright thing this cypress of the plain?" I said; said she:
"'Tis that which thy fixed gaze beholds apart; aye, truly thine!"
When their veil her tulip and dog-rose had let down yesterday,
The morning breeze tore off that screen which o'er these flow'rets lay;
Came forth that Envy of the sun in garden fair to stray,