LXVI. When Paphos fell by Time--accursed Time! The Queen who conquers all must yield to thee-- The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime; And Venus, constant to her native sea, To nought else constant, hither deigned to flee, And fixed her shrine within these walls of white; Though not to one dome circumscribeth she Her worship, but, devoted to her rite, A thousand altars rise, for ever blazing bright.