To melt in solvent tears like vernal snow. 
    I turn’d away, but, with inverted glance,
    Perused the fleeting shapes that fill’d my trance;
    Like him that feels a moment’s short delight
    When a fine picture fleets before his sight.

    BOYD.

THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY.

Quando ad un giogo ed in Un tempo quivi.

      When to one yoke at once I saw the height
    Of gods and men subdued by Cupid’s might,
    I took example from their cruel fate,
    And by their sufferings eased my own hard state;
    Since Phoebus and Leander felt like pain,
    The one a god, the other but a man;
    One snare caught Juno and the Carthage dame
    (Her husband’s death prepared her funeral flame—­
    ’Twas not a cause that Virgil maketh one);
    I need not grieve, that unprepared, alone,
    Unarm’d, and young, I did receive a wound,
    Or that my enemy no hurt hath found
    By Love; or that she clothed him in my sight,
    And took his wings, and marr’d his winding flight;
    No angry lions send more hideous noise
    From their beat breasts, nor clashing thunder’s voice
    Rends heaven, frights earth, and roareth through the air
    With greater force than Love had raised, to dare
    Encounter her of whom I write; and she
    As quick and ready to assail as he: 
    Enceladus when Etna most he shakes,
    Nor angry Scylla, nor Charybdis makes
    So great and frightful noise, as did the shock
    Of this (first doubtful) battle:  none could mock
    Such earnest war; all drew them to the height
    To see what ’mazed their hearts and dimm’d their sight. 
    Victorious Love a threatening dart did show
    His right hand held; the other bore a bow,
    The string of which he drew just by his ear;
    No leopard could chase a frighted deer
    (Free, or broke loose) with quicker speed than he
    Made haste to wound; fire sparkled from his eye. 
    I burn’d, and had a combat in my breast,
    Glad t’ have her company, yet ’twas not best
    (Methought) to see her lost, but ’tis in vain
    T’ abandon goodness, and of fate complain;
    Virtue her servants never will forsake,
    As now ’twas seen, she could resistance make: 
    No fencer ever better warded blow,
    Nor pilot did to shore more wisely row
    To shun a shelf, than with undaunted power
    She waved the stroke of this sharp conqueror. 
    Mine eyes and heart were watchful to attend,
    In hope the victory would that way bend
    It ever did; and that I might no more
    Be barr’d from her; as one whose thoughts before
    His tongue hath utter’d them you well may see
    Writ in his looks; “Oh! if you victor be
    Great sir,” said I, “let her and me be bound
    Both with one yoke; I may be worthy found,