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XXIV.
Yet, to compofe this midnight noise,

Go freely search where-e'er you please (The rage,

that rais'd, adorn'd her voice) Upon yon' toilet lie my keys.

XXV.
Her keys he takes ; her doors unlocks;

Through wardrobe and through closet bounces ;
Peeps into every chest and box;
Turns all her furbeloes and flounces.

XXVI.
But Dove, depend on't, finds he none;

So to the bed returns again :
And now the maiden, bolder grown,
Begins to treat him with disdain.

XXVII.
I marvel much, the smiling said,

Your poultry cannot yer be found :
Lies he in yonder slipper dead?
Or, may be, in the tea-pot drown'd?

XXVIII.
No, traitor, angry Love replies,

He's hid fomewhere about your breaft;
A place nor god nor man denies,
For Venus' Dove the proper neft.

XXIX.
Search then, she faid, put in your hand,

And Cynthia, dear protectress, guard me:
As guilty I, or free, may stand,
Do thou or punish or reward me.

XXX. But

I 3

XXX.
But ah! what maid to Love can'trust!

He scórns, and breaks, all legal power :
Into her breast his hand he thrust;
And in a moment forc'd it lower.

XXXI.
0, whither do those fingers rove,

Cries Cloe, treacherous urchin, whither?
O Venus ! I shall find thy Dove,

Says he ; for sure I touch his featlier.

A LOVER’S ANGER.

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S Cloe came into the room t' other day,

I peevish began; where so long could you stay? In your

life-time you never regarded your hour : You promis’d at two; and (pray look, child) 'tis four. A lady's watch needs neither figures nor wheels ; "Tis enough, that 'tis loaded with baubles and seals. A temper so heedless no mortal can bear Thus far I went on with a refolute air.

Lord bless me! said she ; let a body but speak! Here 's an ugly hard rose-bud fallen into my neck : It has hurt me, and vext me to such a degree – See here ! for you never believe me; pray see, On the left side my breast, what a mark it has made ! So saying, her bosom she careless display'd. That seat of delight I with wonder survey'd ; And forgot every word I design'd to have said.

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MERCURY

MERCURY and CUPID.

IN

N sullen humour one day Jove

Sent Hermes down to Ida's grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His store of darts, his total quiver ;
That Hermes should the weapons break,
Or throw them into Lethe's lake.

Hermes, you know, must do his errand : He found his man, produc'd his warrant : Cupid ! your

darts

this very hour. There's no contending against power!

How fullen Jupiter, just now,
I think I said : and you 'll allow,
That Cupid was as bad as he :
Hear but the youngster's repartee.

Come, kinsman (said the little god),
Put off your wings, lay by your rod;
Retire with me to yonder bower ;
And rest yourself for half an hour :
'Tis far indeed from hence to Heaven;
But you fly fast: and 'tis but seven.
We'll take one cooling cup of nectar;
And drink to this celestial Heĉtor.

He break my darts! or hurt my power!
He, Leda's swan, and Danaë's shower!
Go, bid him his wise tongue restrain ;
And mind his thunder, and his rain.-

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Has acted ill for such a gods
And taken ways extremely odd.

And thou, unhappy child, she faid,
(Her anger by her grief allay'd)
Unhappy child, who thus hast loft
All the estate we e'er could boast;
Whither, O whither wilt thou run,
Thy name despis'd, thy weakness known?
Nor shall thy fhrine on earth be crown'd ;
Nor shall thy power in Heaven be own'd;
When thou nor man nor god canft wound.

Obedient Cupid kneeling cried,
Cease, dearest mother, cease to chide :
Gany's a cheat, and I 'm a bubble :
Yet why this great excess of trouble?
The dice were false : the darts are gone :
Yet how are you, or I, undone ?

The loss of these I can supply
With keener shafts from Cloe's eye :
Fear not we e'er can be disgrac'd,
While that bright magazine shall laft:
Your crouded altars still shall smoke ;
And man your friendly aid invoke :
Jove shall again revere your power,
And rise a lwan, or fall a shower,

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CUPID MISTAKEN.

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I.
AS after noon, one fummer's day,

Venus stood bathing in a river;
Cupid a-shooting went that way,
New strung his bow, new fill’d his quiver.

II.
With skill he chose his sharpest dart,

With all his might his bow he drew;
Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
The too-well-guided arrow flew.

III.
I faint ! I dię ! the goddess cried :

O cruel, could'st thou find none other,
To wreck thy spleen on ? parricide!
Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.

IV.
Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;

Indeed, Mamma, I did not know ye :
Alas ! how easy my mistake ?

I took you for your likeness Cloe.

VENUS MIS TAKEN.

I. WHE

HEN Cloe's picture was to Venus shown;

Surpriz’d, the goddess took it for her own.
And what, said she, does this bold painter mean?
When was I bathing thus, and naked seen ?
7

II. Pleas'd

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