Within those oratories might you see Rich carvings, portraitures, and imagery; Where every figure to the life expressed The godhead's power to whom it was addressed. In Venus' temple on the sides were seen The broken slumbers of enamoured men; Prayers that even spoke, and pity seemed to call, And issuing sighs that smoked along the wall; Complaints and hot desires, the lover's hell, And scalding tears that wore a channel where they fell; And all around were nuptial bonds, the ties Of love's assurance, and a train of lies, That, made in lust, conclude in perjuries; Beauty, and Youth, and Wealth, and Luxury, And sprightly Hope and short-enduring Joy, And Sorceries, to raise the infernal powers, And Sigils framed in planetary hours; Expense, and After-thought, and idle Care, And Doubts of motley hue, and dark Despair; Suspicions and fantastical Surmise, And Jealousy suffused, with jaundice in her eyes, Discolouring all she viewed, in tawny dressed, Down-looked, and with a cuckow on her fist. Opposed to her, on the other side advance The costly feast, the carol, and the dance, Minstrels and music, poetry and play, And balls by night, and turnaments by day. All these were painted on the wall, and more; With acts and monuments of times before; And others added by prophetic doom, And lovers yet unborn, and loves to come: For there the Idalian mount, and Citheron, The court of Venus, was in colours drawn; Before the palace gate, in careless dress And loose array, sat portress Idleness; There by the fount Narcissus pined alone; There Samson was; with wiser Solomon, And all the mighty names by love undone. Medea's charms were there; Circean feasts, With bowls that turned enamoured youths to beasts. Here might be seen, that beauty, wealth, and wit, And prowess to the power of love submit; The spreading snare for all mankind is laid, And lovers all betray, and are betrayed. The Goddess' self some noble hand had wrought; Smiling she seemed, and full of pleasing thought; From ocean as she first began to rise, And smoothed the ruffled seas, and cleared the skies, She trod the brine, all bare below the breast, And the green waves but ill-concealed the rest: A lute she held; and on her head was seen A wreath of roses red and myrtles green; Her turtles fanned the buxom air above; And by his mother stood an infant Love, With wings unfledged; his eyes were banded o'er, His hands a bow, his back, a quiver bore, Supplied with arrows bright and keen, a deadly store.