The Pʀᴏᴛᴇᴜs-ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ woos his playful bride,To win the fair he tries a thousand forms, Basks on the sands, or gambols in the storms.A Dolphin now, his scaly sides he laves,And bears the sportive damsel on the waves;She strikes the cymbal as he moves along,And wondering Ocean listens to the song.—And now a spotted Pard the lover stalks,Plays round her steps, and guards her favour’d walks;As with white teeth he prints her hand, caress’d, And lays his velvet paw upon her breast,O’er his round face her snowy fingers strainThe silken knots, and fit the ribbon-rein.—And now a Swan, he spreads his plumy sails,And proudly glides before the fanning gales;Pleas’d on the flowery brink with graceful handShe waves her floating lover to the land;Bright shines his sinuous neck, with crimson beakHe prints fond kisses on her glowing cheek,Spreads his broad wings, elates his ebon crest,And clasps the beauty to his downy breast.