In the third region
Venus voyages...
but my voice falters;
Rude rime-making
wrongs her beauty,
Whose breasts and brow,
and her breath’s sweetness
Bewitch the worlds.
Wide-spread the reign
Of her secret sceptre,
in the sea’s caverns,
In grass growing,
and grain bursting,
Flower unfolding,
and flesh longing,
And shower falling
sharp in April.
The metal copper
in the mine reddens
With muffled brightness,
like muted gold,
By her fingers form’d.
