"The Lamprey, glowing with uncommon Fires, The Earth-bred Serpents purfled Curls admires. He no less kind makes amorous Returns, With equal Love the grateful Serpent burns. Fixt on the Joy he bounding shoots along, Erects his azure Crest, and darts his forky Tongue. Now his red Eye-balls glow with doubled Fires; Proudly he mounts upon his folded Spires, Displays his glossy Coat, and speckled Side, And meets in all his Charms the wat’ry Bride. But lest he cautless might his Consort harm, The gentle Lover will himself disarm, Spit out the venom’d Mass, and careful hide In cranny’d Rocks, far from the washing Tide; There leaves the Furies of his noxious Teeth, And putrid Bags, the pois’nous Fund of Death. His Mate he calls with softly hissing Sounds; She joyful hears, and from the Ocean bounds. Swift as the bearded Arrow’d Hast she flies, To own her Love, and meet the Serpent’s Joys. At her approach, no more the Lover bears Odious Delay, nor sounding Waters fears. Onward he moves on shining Volumes roll’d, The Foam all burning seems with wavy Gold. At length with equal Hast the Lovers meet, And strange Enjoyments slake their mutual Heat. She with wide-gaping Mouth the Spouse invites, Sucks in his Head, and feels unknown Delights. When full Fruition has asswag’d Desire, Well-pleas’d the Bride will to her Home retire. Tir’d with the Strife the Serpent hies to Land, And leaves his Prints on all the furrow’d Sand; With anxious Fear seeks the close private Cleft, Where he in Trust th’important Secret left. From the stain’d Rock he sucks the pois’nous Heaps, Feels his returning Strength, and hissing leaps; With brandish’d Tongue the distant Foe defies, And darts new Light’nings from his Blood-shot Eyes. But if some Swain mean while observing spies Where odious Spume, and venom’d Spittle lies, And while the Serpent wooes, from neighb’ring Seas The cleansing Waters to the Rock conveys; The Serpent comes, and finds his Treasure gone, Looks sorrowing round, and blames the faithless Stone; Disarm’d no more his wonted Pleasure takes, Curls in the Grass, or hisses in the Brakes. He creeps with Shame a tawdry speckled Worm, And prides no longer in his beauteous Form. On the same Rock with Head reclin’d he lies, And, where he lost his Arms, despairing dies."