I SAW fair Chloris walk alone, 
When feather'd rain came softly down, 
As Jove descending from his Tower 
To court her in a silver shower: 
The wanton snow flew to her breast, 
Like pretty birds into their nest, 
But, overcome with whiteness there, 
For grief it thaw'd into a tear: 
   Thence falling on her garments' hem, 
   To deck her, froze into a gem.