LEANDER.
15
No virgin can a worthy priestess be
To her, who laughs at dull virginity.
Wou'dst thou the goddess faithfully adore?
Regard nice conduct less, and nature more.
Oh! can'st thou ever her sweet laws admire,
Yet be a stranger to a lover's fire?
The little, wanton God did me ordain,
If not to conquer, still to hug thy chain.
A slave so humble was Alcides seen,
When led by Hermes to the Lydian queen:
My passion still a nobler spring did move;
The God of wit yields to the God of love.
Why need I Atalanta's fate declare,
Who wisely (as she thought) declin'd the snare?
While from Melanion's arms all ice she fled,
And shunn'd the pleasures of a nuptial bed:
Till she by Venus rage her follies mourn'd,
And love for love, and flame for flame return'd.
