The poem
[From the Latin of Petronious Ascanius.]
When, wanton fair, the snowy orb you throw, I feel a fire before unknown in snow. E'en coldest snow I find has pow'r to warm My breast, when flung by Julia's lovely arm. T'elude love's pow'rful arts I strive in vain, If ice and snow can latent fires contain. These frolics leave: the force of beauty prove, With equal passion cool my ardent love.