The Panther, sure the noblest next the
Hind,

And fairest creature of the spotted kind; Oh, could her inborn stains be washed away,

She were too good to be a beast of prey! 330 How can I praise or blame, and not offend,

Or how divide the frailty from the friend? Her faults and virtues lie so mixed, that she

Nor wholly stands condemned, nor wholly free.

Then, like her injured Lion, let me speak; He cannot bend her and he would not break. 336 Unkind already, and estranged in part, The Wolf begins to share her wandering heart.

Though unpolluted yet with actual ill, She half commits who sins but in her will.

340

Cries: "Hark! the foes come;

Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!"

The soft complaining flute

35

In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute.

25

With flying fingers touched the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the power of mighty love.)'
A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia pressed, 30
And while he sought her snowy
breast;

Then round her slender waist he curled, And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.

The listening crowd admire the lofty

sound,

Flushed with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes.

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain; 55 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,