Now round its Pole the spiral Hop entwists,
Like  born by  ancient Priests.
The Husband Elm supports th'embracing Vines,
And round its Oak the Ivy closer twines.
To  Sacred all, and prone to Love,
They show what Fuel must the Flame improve;
Love, blind himself, the Mark would hardly know,
But  takes the Aim, and sets the Bow.