Classic Poem

Amidst the mountain Ida's groves,
Where Paris kept his herd,
Before the other ladies all,
He would have thee preferred.
Pallas for all her painting then,
Her face would seem but pale:
Then Juno would have blushed for shame,
And Venus looked stale.
Eurymine, thy self alone
Shouldst bear the golden ball:
So far would thy most heavenly form
Excell the others all.
O happy Phœbus, happy then,
Most happy should I be:
If fair Eurymine would please,
To join in love with me.