VENUS AND DEATH.

With fetters gold her captivated feet

Lay, sunny sweet;

In that palm was the poppy, Sleep; in this

The apple, Bliss;

Against the mild side of his Spouse and Mother

One small God throve, and i n't, meseem'd, another.

By these a Death-in-Life did foully breathe

Out of a face that was one grate of teeth.

Lift, O kind Angels, lift her eyelids loth,

Lest he devour her and her Godlets both!