Till in some Latmian cave I see thee creep
To catch the young Endymion asleep,
Leaving thy splendour at the jagged porch!
"Oh! thou art beautiful, however it be,
Huntress, or Dian, or whatever named,
And he the veriest Pagan, that first framed
A silver idol, and ne'er worshipped thee!
It is too late, or thou shouldst have my knee;
Too late now for the old Ephesian vows,
And not divine the crescent on thy brows: