The spirits were mingled, while Venus looked on
With glances so fraught with sweet, magical power
That the honey of Hybla e’en when it was gone
Has never been wiped from the draught till this hour.
Flora then from her bosom of fragrancy took
And with roseate fingers pressed down in the bowl,
All dripping and wet, as it came from the brook,
The herb whose aroma should flavor the whole.
The draught was delicious, each god did exclaim.
Yet something yet wanted, they all did bewail,