Now, ere decay my bloom devourOr thin the richness of my blood,Fain would I fall in youth's first flower,The tigers' food.Hark! 'tis my father—‘Worthless one!What, yet alive? the oak is nigh.'Twas well you kept your maiden zone,The noose to tie.Or if your choice be that rude pike,New barb'd with death, leap down and askThe wind to bear you. Would you likeThe bondmaid's task,You, child of kings, a master's toy,A mistress' slave?’” Beside her, lo!Stood Venus smiling, and her boyWith unstrung bow.Then, when her laughter ceased, “Have doneWith fume and fret,” she cried, “my fair;That odious bull will give you soonHis horns to tear.