Let them severer stoic nymphs possess,
Whose stubborn passions feel no soft distress.
Now as the youths returning o’er the plain
Approached the lonely margin of the main,
First, with attention rouzed, Arion eyed
The graceful lover, formed in Nature’s pride:
His frame the happiest symmetry displayed,
And locks of waving gold his neck arrayed;
In every look the Paphian graces shine,
Soft breathing o’er his cheek their bloom divine: