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• When he presented, more nectarious deem’d.— [440]
• The sweetest sappadillas¹ oft he brought;
• From him more sweet ripe sappadillas seem’d.—
• Nor had long absence yet effac’d her form;
• Her charms still triumph’d o’er Britannia’s fair.
• One morn he met her in Sheen’s royal walks;² [445]
• Nor knew, till then, sweet Sheen contain’d his all.
• His taste mature approv’d his infant choice.
• In colour, form, expression, and in grace,
• She shone all perfect; while each pleasing art,
• And each soft virtue that the sex adorns, [450]
• Adorn’d the woman. My imperfect strain,
• Which Percy’s³ happier pencil would demand,
• Can ill describe the transports Junio felt
• At this discovery: He declar’d his love;

• She own’d his merit, nor refus’d his hand. [455]

• AND shall not Hymen⁴ light his brightest torch,
• For this delighted pair? Ah, Junio knew,

VER. 441. sappadillas] This is a pleasant-tasted fruit, somewhat resembling a bergamot-pear, in shape and colour. The tree which produces it, is large and shady. Its leaves are of a shining green; but the flowers, which are monopetalous, are of a palish white. The fruit is coronated when ripe, and contains, in its pulp, several longish black seeds. It is wholesome. Antigua produces the best sappadillas I ever tasted. The trivial name is Spanish. Botanists call it Cainito.

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