noon
` If one proud Fair you chanced to find , An hundred other Nymphs were kind , Whose smiles might well for Julia 's frowns atone : But such is Man ! His partial hand Unnumbered favours writes on sand , But stamps one little fault on solid lasting stone . ` Ingrate ! Who led Thee to the wave , At noon where Lesbia loved to lave ? Who named the bower alone where Daphne lay ? And who , when Caelia shrieked for aid , Bad you with kisses hush the Maid ? What other was ' t than Love , Oh !