Venus And Death

With fetters gold her captivated feet
  Lay, sunny sweet;
  In that palm was the poppy, Sleep; in this
  The apple, Bliss;
  Against the mild side of his Spouse and Mother
  One small God throve, and in't, meseem'd, another.
  By these a Death-in-Life did foully breathe
  Out of a face that was one grate of teeth.
  Lift, O kind Angels, lift her eyelids loth,
  Lest he devour her and her Godlets both!