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xlii No female threats could make his ears afraid: He knew the signs of a consenting maid. Her fragrant rose-complexion'd neck he press'd With clinging lips, love thrilling in his breast: Then whisper'd: "Oh! thou wonder of this earth!— Pity my love, and listen to my prayer.— Priestess of Venus, Venus' rites employ:— Me Venus' self, commissions now to thee. Hast thou of that Arcadian virgin read? How Atalanta shunn'd Milanion's bed, A maiden vow'd? Bat angry Venus tore Her heart with love, for him she scorn'd before. Then be persuaded, sweet! and fear to prove Th' indignant anger of the queen of love."— His words sow'd love: her thoughts bewilder'd stray'd. Speechless the virgin stood, with downcast eye, And veil'd her cheek that glow'd with modesty. With tip-toe step she lightly paced the ground, And bashful clipp'd her folded mantle round. Signs of soft yielding: Already does her thrilling bosom prove The bitter-sweet, voluptuous stings of love. She views Leander with entranced gaze: Then on the ground she bends her fringed eyes; His look dilates in frenzied ecstasies: Still on her smooth-complexion'd neck, that turns With sweeping bend, his glance insatiate burns: Till Hero thus with softest accent said,