Classic Poem

Stand still, you floods, do not deface
That image which you bear:
So votaries from every place
To you shall altars rear.

No winds but lovers' sighs blow here
To trouble these glad streams,
On which no star from any sphere
Did ever dart such beams.

To crystal then in haste congeal,
Lest you should lose your bliss;
And to my cruel fair reveal
How cold, how hard she is.

But if the envious nymphs shall fear
Their beauties will be scorned,
And hire the ruder winds to tear
That face which you adorned,

Then rage and foam amain, that we
Their malice may despise;
When from your froth we soon shall see
A second Venus rise.