Soft Towels for their Hands th’ Attendants bring,
And limpid water from the chrystal Spring.
They wash; the menial Train the Tables spread;
And heap in glitt’ring Canisters the Bread.945
To dress the Feast, full fifty Handmaids joyn,
And burn rich Incense to the Pow’rs divine;
A hundred Boys and Virgins stood around,
The Banquet marshal’d, and the Goblets crown’d.
To fill th’ embroider’d Beds the Tyrians come950
Frequent and full; and crowd the regal Room.
The Guests the gorgeous Gifts and Boy admire,
His Voice, and Looks, that glow with youthful Fire;
The Veil and Foliage wond’ring they behold,
And the rich Robe that slam’d with figur’d Gold:955
But chief the Queen, the Boy and Presents move,
The Queen, already doom’d to fatal Love.
Insatiate in her Joy, she fate amaz’d,
Gaz’d on his Face, and kindled as she gaz’d.
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