With tears my stay the suppliant beauty prayed,
Till, slow, I yielded to the lovely maid.
Ye gods! how bless’d! since what my heart did crave,
That, as a favor, to my love I gave.
Minerva once saw Venus all in arms,
With beamy casque, and wavy plume array’d—
“Thus dar’st thou meet the trial of our charms,
My Cyprian rival?” said the awful maid.
Smiling she spoke, “How, when I take the shield,
If weaponless, my beauty gained the field?” [3]