Yet no! […] This was no less than an improper liason between Mars, God of War, and the charming Venus. […] But all this was no pleasant intelligence to them, for with the malice of ill-nature, they determined to be revenged on her for a happiness which was no fault. […] Fairer than Phœbus sapphire-regioned star     Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; Fairer than these, tho’ temple thou hast none,         Nor altar heaped with flowers; Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan         Upon the midnight hours; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,     From chain swung censer teeming; No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat     Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming. […] may I feel the golden plague no more!’”