And thence opinion spread beyond the shores, From isle to isle the wonder flew, it came Across the Ægæan on a thousand oars, Athens and Smyrna caught the virgin's fame; And East or West, where'er the tale had been, The adoration of the foam-born queen Fell to neglect, and men forgot her name. 10 No longer to high Paphos now 'twas sail'd; The fragrant altar by the Graces served At Cnidus was forsaken; pilgrims fail'd The rocky island to her name reserved, Proud Ephyra, and Meropis renown'd; 'Twas all for Crete her votaries were bound, And to the Cretan maid her worship swerved. 11 Which when in heaven great Aphrodite saw, Who is the breather of the year's bright morn, Fount of desire and beauty without flaw, Herself the life that doth the world adorn; Seeing that without her generative might Nothing can spring upon the shores of light, Nor any bud of joy or love be born; 12 She, when she saw the insult, did not hide Her indignation, that a mortal frail With her eterne divinity had vied, Her fair Hellenic empire to assail, For which she had fled the doom of Ninus old, And left her wanton images unsoul'd In Babylon and Zidon soon to fail. 13 'Not long,' she cried, 'shall that poor girl of Crete God it in my despite; for I will bring Such mischief on the sickly counterfeit As soon shall cure her tribe of worshipping: Her beauty will I mock with loathèd lust, Bow down her dainty spirit to the dust, And leave her long alive to feel the sting.' 14 With that she calls to her her comely boy, The limber scion of the God of War, The fruit adulterous, which for man's annoy To that fierce partner Cytherea bore, Eros, the ever young, who only grew In mischief, and was Cupid named anew In westering aftertime of latin lore. 15 What the first dawn of manhood is, the hour When beauty, from its fleshy bud unpent, Flaunts like the corol of a summer flower, As if all life were for that ornament, Such Eros seemed in years, a trifler gay, The prodigal of an immortal day For ever spending, and yet never spent. 16 His skin is brilliant with the nimble flood Of ichor, that comes dancing from his heart, Lively as fire, and redder than the blood, And maketh in his eyes small flashes dart, And curleth his hair golden, and distilleth Honey on his tongue, and all his body filleth With wanton lightsomeness in every part. 17 Naked he goeth, but with sprightly wings Red, iridescent, are his shoulders fledged. A bow his weapon, which he deftly strings, And little arrows barb'd and keenly edged; And these he shooteth true; but else the youth For all his seeming recketh naught of truth, But most deceiveth where he most is pledged. 18