Her golden youth did with new transports play,
And crowned his toils in empyrean day.
Yet did he oft, though in her arms he lay,
And tasted to the height immortal youth,
Sigh for young Iole, who, soft as May,
And rich as Summer, yielded up her truth;
There by Euripus, ever fickle stream,
He won a world in her immortal arms,
And found his prized honour but a dream
Lost in the Ocean of her gentle charms."