O Venus, hail! all hail, immortal Queen!
	Thou reign’st unbounded o’er the human scene,
	Where the bright Thames shines forth in azure pride,
	To where the Ganges rolls its foamy tide,
	Where the redundant Nile expands his course,
	Or Niagara throws her headlong force;
	Still from the east to west, from pole to pole,
	Thou e’er shalt rule great Sovereign of the whole.

Bohn.    

	Creator Venus, genial power of love,
	The bliss of men below, and gods above!
	Beneath the sliding sun thou runn’st thy race,
	Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place;
	For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear,
	Thy month reveals the spring, and opens all the year.
	Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly,
	Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky,
	And birds to lays of love their tuneful notes apply;
	For thee the lion loathes the taste of blood.

Dryden.