See how the fading glories of the year
 Put on a youthful smile to welcome her;
 'Spite of the Dog-Star's madness, her bright eyes
 Create a spring of ever blooming joys.

 All nature to her charms fresh tribute yields,
 Making where'er she comes Elysian fields,
 Where roses proudly breathe out all their sweet
 And blush out all their beauty at her feet,
 Where nightingales their own lovesongs lay by,
 And her inimitable graces try,
 While the more wanton hills and groves rejoice,
 Faintly to echo back her heav'nly voice.

 But my pains rage the more near Paradise;
 Panthea is to me a burning glass of ice.