“ ‘Now she invokes the daughters of the night, Does noxious juices smear, and charms recite, Such as can veil the moon’s more feeble fire, Or shade the golden lustre of her sire. In filthy fogs she hides the cheerful noon. The guard at distance, and the youth alone⁠— “By those fair eyes,” she cries, “and every grace That finish all the wonders of your face, Oh! I conjure thee, hear a queen complain, Nor let the sun’s soft lineage sue in vain.”

“ ‘ “Whoe’er thou art,” replied the king, “forbear! None can my passion with my Canens share: She first my every tender wish possess’d, And found the soft approaches to my breast; In nuptials bless’d, each loose desire we shun, Nor time can end what innocence begun.”