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When Tithon's impotence you made your sport,
Did you not think the joyous moments short?
Lock'd in his arms did you in transports lie,
Ah! would you not, like me, to Phoebus cry,
"Stop, stop thy rapid course? Am I to blame
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That Tithon's old, and cannot feel thy flame?
See how the moon does her Endymion keep
In night conceal'd, and drown'd in dewy sleep.
As lovely is the moon, as fair as thou,
Who freely, where she loves, her favours does bestow.
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Jove, when he rob'd Amphitryon of his joy,
Did two whole nights in am'rous thefts employ;
Unknown when in Alcmena's arms he lay,
The night he doubles and suspends the day."
The morning heard my railing, and for shame
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Blush'd that by force she must disturb my flame;
Bright Phoebus rushing forth, the glorious day
Drove the dear shades, that hid our joys, away.
