No sooner had they reached the destined bower,
Than in the limpid spring her snowy frame
Each goddess laved; to Priam’s son then came
With artful speeches of such winning power
As might beguile the rash and amorous boy:
Venus prevailed; her words, though sweet their sound,
Proved of destructive consequence to Troy,
Whose stately bulwarks hence lie levelled with the ground.