We need not be reminded that these stanzas are almost a cento from Virgil, Hesiod, and Ovid.  The merits of the translator, adapter, and combiner, who knew so well how to cull their beauties and adorn them with a perfect dress of modern diction, are so eminent that we cannot deny him the title of a great poet.  It is always in picture-painting more than in dramatic presentation that Poliziano excels.  Here is a basrelief of Venus rising from the Ocean foam:—­

STANZAS 99-107.

  In Thetis’ lap, upon the vexed Egean,
    The seed deific from Olympus sown,
  Beneath dim stars and cycling empyrean
    Drifts like white foam across the salt waves blown;
  Thence, born at last by movements hymenean,
    Rises a maid more fair than man hath known;
  Upon her shell the wanton breezes waft her;
    She nears the shore, while heaven looks down with laughter

  Seeing the carved work you would cry that real
    Were shell and sea, and real the winds that blow;
  The lightning of the goddess’ eyes you feel,
    The smiling heavens, the elemental glow: 
  White-vested Hours across the smooth sands steal,
    With loosened curls that to the breezes flow;
  Like, yet unlike, are all their beauteous faces,
  E’en as befits a choir of sister Graces.

  Well might you swear that on those waves were riding
   The goddess with her right hand on her hair,
  And with the other the sweet apple hiding;
    And that beneath her feet, divinely fair,
  Fresh flowers sprang forth, the barren sands dividing;
    Then that, with glad smiles and enticements rare,
  The three nymphs round their queen, embosoming her,
  Threw the starred mantle soft as gossamer.

  The one, with hands above her head upraised,
    Upon her dewy tresses fits a wreath,
  With ruddy gold and orient gems emblazed;
    The second hangs pure pearls her ears beneath;
  The third round shoulders white and breast hath placed
    Such wealth of gleaming carcanets as sheathe
  Their own fair bosoms, when the Graces sing
  Among the gods with dance and carolling.

  Thence might you see them rising toward the spheres,
    Seated upon a cloud of silvery white;
  The trembling of the cloven air appears
    Wrought in the stone, and heaven serenely bright;
  The gods drink in with open eyes and ears
    Her beauty, and desire her bed’s delight;
  Each seems to marvel with a mute amaze—­
  Their brows and foreheads wrinkle as they gaze.

The next quotation shows Venus in the lap of Mars, and Visited by
Cupid:—­

  STANZAS 122—­124.

  Stretched on a couch, outside the coverlid,
    Love found her, scarce unloosed from Mars’ embrace;
  He, lying back within her bosom, fed
    His eager eyes on nought but her fair face;