The sea-gods he with sacred rites adores,
Then a libation on the ocean pours;
While the fat entrails crackle in the fire,
And sheets of smoke in sweet perfume aspire:
Till Proteus, rising from his oozy bed,
Thus to the poor, desponding lover said,
'No more in anxious thoughts your mind employ,
For yet you shall possess the dear, expected joy,
You must once more the unwary nymph surprize,
As in her cooly grot she slumbering lies: