“Through heaven the news of this surprisal run, But Venus did not thus forget the Sun. He, who stolen transports idly had betray’d, By a betrayer was in kind repaid. What now avails, great god, thy piercing blaze, That youth, and beauty, and those golden rays? Thou, who canst warm this universe alone, Feel’st now a warmth more pow’rful than thy own; And those bright eyes, which all things should survey, Know not from fair Leucothoe to stray. The lamp of light, for human good design’d, Is to one virgin niggardly confin’d. Sometimes too early rise thy eastern beams, Sometimes too late they set in western streams; ’Tis then her beauty thy swift course delays, And gives to winter skies long summer days. Now in thy face thy lovesick mind appears, And spreads through impious nations empty fears; For when thy beamless head is wrapp’d in night, Poor mortals tremble in despair of light. ’Tis not the moon that o’er thee casts a veil, ’Tis love alone which makes thy looks so pale. Leucothoe is grown thy only care, Not Phaeton’s fair mother now is fair.