"Last, in a lovely mist of rosy fire,
Came Aphrodite through the forest glade,
The queen of all delight and all desire,
More fair than when her naked foot she laid
On the blind mere's wild wave that sank dismay'd,
What time the sea grew smoother than a lake;
I was too happy to be sore afraid.
And like a song her voice was when she spake:
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