“ ‘In vain each nymph her brightest charms put on, His heart no sovereign would obey but one, She whom Venilia, on Mount Palatine, To Janus bore, the fairest of his line; Nor did her face alone her charms confess, Her voice was ravishing, and pleased no less. Whene’er she sung, so melting were her strains, The flocks, unfed, seem’d listening on the plains; The rivers would stand still, the cedars bend; And birds neglect their pinions to attend; The savage kind in forest wilds grow tame; And Canens, from her heavenly voice, her name.