Goddess of the dimpling smile

Goddess, goddess of the dimpling smile,

Quit, ah! quit thy fav'rite isle:

Crowned with myrtle wreath, advance;

From the hand of giddy chance

Snatch the power to make us blessed.

Be it thine to ease my breast.

In her ivory car the fair queen I behold,

Her cygnets in trappings of purple and gold

Displaying their pinions; I see the young loves,

All brighter than sunshine, all soft as her doves.

With rapture, O Venus, I bow at thy shrine.

She whispers me softly: Young Thyrsis is thine.