We seem to see a race of men and women such as never lived, except perhaps in Rome or in the thought of Michelangelo, meeting in leonine embracements that yield pain, whereof the climax is, at best, relief from rage and respite for a moment from consuming fire.

With passioned and thrilling embracement, With straining of breast unto breast, With sighing and trembling and transport In lust's unrestrained, giddy zest So revelled 'mid desolate ruins, Of Lovers,past counting at least!

"Yet is there one, the most delightfull kind, A loftie jumping, or a leaping round, Where arme and arme two dauncers are entwind, And whirle themselues with strict embracements bound, And still their feet an anapest do sound: An anapest is all their musicks song, Whose first two feet are short, and third is long.