Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Who, then, here hath grav'd the sea?
What art, that soars to heaven free,
In madness, of a sacred mood,
Has pour'd upon this dish the flood?
Pour'd the flood, and waves, that flee
Rolling o'er the purple sea?
Nay, some immortal mind has laid,
A mind full oft to Heaven convey'd,
Venus herself, in tender state,
Upon the sea, a lovely weight,
And caus'd thereon the Goddess float,
From whom the Gods their being note.

Nay, he has shown her naked here,
Whom thus to see is full of fear;
Only the wave affects to hide
What is of Heaven the balmy pride;
And on the wave she wanders light,
As weeds o' th' sea, whose back is white;

She wanders on the gentle calm,
Giving her body, heav'nly balm,
And light o' th' sea, and Heaven's pride,
The floods and current to divide.

Above the rosy paps, below
The tender neck the waters flow,
This being the first and happy day,
Whereon she cuts her wat'ry way:
I' th' middle furrow of the sea,
Amid' the deep tranquillity,
Venus shines forth, and light begets,
As lilies 'mid dark violets.

And, also, on the silver, note
Upon the dancing dolphins float,
Treach'rous, though under tender face,
Desire and Love, with laughing grace:
And then a quire of fishes bow'd,
That all around the triumph croud;

That, diving headlong to the deep,
Before the eyes of Paphia keep,
And please her with their thronging play—
She laughs, and floats upon her way.