And young Camillus pretty well she knew;
          Howe’er with such severity he spoke,
          That e’en the mildest saint it would provoke;
          Yet, in a swain so easy, gentle, kind,
          ’Twas strange so little lenity to find.

          Sheplaced herself, as order’d, cross the bed,
          And at his feet at length reclined her head;
          A kiss on them she ventured to impress,
          But not too roughly, lest she should transgress: 
          We may conjecture if he were at ease;
          What victory! to see her stoop to please;
          A beauty so renowned for charms and pride,
          ’Twould take a week, to note each trait described;
          No other fault than paleness he could trace,
          Which gave her (causes known) still higher grace.

          Camillusstretched his legs, and on her breast
          Familiarly allowed his feet to rest;
          A cushion made of what so fair appeared,
          That envy might from ivory be feared;
          Then seemed as if to Morpheus he inclined,
          And on the pillow sullenly resigned. 
          At last the sighs with which her bosom heaved,
          Gave vent to floods of tears that much relieved;
          This was the end:—­Camillus silence broke,
          And to tell the belle with pleasing accents spoke
          I’m satisfied, said he, your love is pure;
          Come hither charming girl and be secure. 
          She t’wards him moved; Camillus near her slid;
          Could you, cried he, believe that what I did,
          Was seriously the dictates of my soul,
          To act the brute and ev’ry way control? 
          No, no, sweet fair, you know me not ’tis plain: 
          I truly wish your fondest love to gain;
          Your heart I’ve probed, ’tis all that I desire;
          Mid joys I swim; my bosom feels the fire. 
          Your rigour now in turn you may display;
          It is but fair:  be bountiful I pray;
          Myself from hence your lover I declare;
          No woman merits more my bed to share,
          Whatever rank, or beauty, sense or life,
          You equally deserve to be my wife;
          Your husband I’ll become; forget the past;
          Unpleasant recollections should not last. 
          Yet there’s one thing which much I wish to speak
          The marriage must be secret that we seek;
          There’s no occasion reasons to disclose;
          What I have said I trust will you dispose,
          To act as I desire:  you’ll find it best:—­
          A wedding ’s like amours while unconfessed;
          One then both husband and gallant appears,
          And ev’ry wily act the bosom cheers. 
          Till we, continued he, a priest can find,
          Are you, to trust my promises inclined? 
          You safely may; he’ll to his word adhere: 
          His heart is honest, and his tongue sincere.