When Kneller's works, of various grace, <br />Were to fair Venus shown, <br />The Goddess spied in every face <br />Some features of her own. <br /> <br />Just so, (and pointing with her hand) <br />So shone, says she, my eyes, <br />When from two goddesses I gain'd <br />An apple for a prize. <br /> <br />When in the glass and river too <br />My face I lately view'd, <br />Such was I, if the glass be true, <br />If true the crystal flood. <br /> <br />In colours of this glorious kind <br />Apelles painted me; <br />My hair, thus flowing with the wind <br />Sprung from my native sea. <br /> <br />Like this disorder'd, wild, forlorn, <br />Big with ten thousand fears, <br />Thee, my Adonis, did I mourn <br />E'en beautiful in tears. <br /> <br />But viewing Myra placed apart, <br />I fear, says she, I fear, <br />Appelles, that Sir Godfrey's art <br />Has far surpass'd thine here: <br /> <br />Or I, a goddess of the skies, <br />By Mary am undone, <br />And must resign to her the prize, <br />The apple, which I won. <br /> <br />But soon as she had Myra seen, <br />Majestically fair, <br />The sparkling eye, the look serene, <br />The gay and easy air. <br /> <br />With fiery emulation fill'd <br />The wondering goddess cried, <br />Apelles must to Kneller yield, <br />Or Venus must to Hyde.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-judgement-of-venus/
