[From _The Kentucky Gazette_ (November 3, 1806)]
What deathless Artist's mimic hand
Shall paint me here the Ocean bland,
Shall give the waves such kindling glows
As when immortal Venus rose?
Who, in phrenzy's flight of mind
Such touch and tinctures bright may find
To match her form and golden hair
And naked paint the heavenly fair?
While every amorous rival billow
Strives her buoyant breast to pillow?
'Tis done! behold the wavelets green
Softly press the Paphian Queen,
Around her heavenly bosom play,
Kiss its warm blush and melt away.
Her graceful neck of pearl behold,
Her wavy curls of floating gold:
But none but lips divine may tell
What Graces on that bosom dwell!
Such bloom a bed of lilies shows
Illumin'd by the crimson'd rose.
Rounding off with grace divine
Like hills of snow her shoulders shine.
While streaming thro' the waves she swims
The silvery maze half veils her limbs,
Else where's the eye that durst behold
Such beauty stream'd on heavenly mold?
Th' enamour'd Triton's glittering train
Sporting round the liquid main
Waving their gold and silver pinions,
Bear her o'er their deep dominions,
While infant Loves and young desires
Dancing 'mid the choral choirs
Clasp the beauteous Queen around
And sail in triumph o'er the bright profound.