POLYPHEMUS to his MISTRESS, from Ovid

O GALATEA, Thou'rt the Flow'r of May, Tall as a Poplar, as a Meadow gay; Splendid as Glass, gamesome as any Kid, Airy as Cockles toss'd by ev'ry Tide; Grateful as Summer's Shade, or Winter's Shine, Sweet as an Apple, sightly as a Pine; Smoother than mellow Grapes, whiter than Snow, Soft as a Swan, or Stroakings from the Cow; And if you did not shun my fond Embrace, Fair as a Garden where a Fountain plays.

Again; thou'rt wild as any Colt unbroke, False as the Waves, obdurate as an Oak; Weaker than sallow Twigs, or than the Vine, Harder than Rocks, more Head-strong than the Rhine; Proud as a Peacock when we him admire, Sharper than Thorns, and hotter than the Fire; Deaf as the Seas, cruel as Bears at Rut, Fierce as an Adder trodden under Foot; And what the greatest Plague of all I find, You fly the Lover like the hunted Hind, Fleeting as Air, and volatile as Wind.