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But in this nymph, my friend, my sister knout LOVE DISARMED.
She draws my arrows, and she bends my bow: Benestu a myrtle's verdant shade
Fair Thames she haunts, and ever neighbouring
(grove, As Cloe half asleep was laid,
Go, with thy Cynthia, hurl the pointed spear Cupid perch'd lightly on her breast,
At the rough boar, or chase the flying deer: And in that Heaven desir'd to rest:
I and my Cloe take a nobler aim: Over her paps his wings he spread ;
At human hearts we fing, nor erer miss the game."
Still lay the god : the nymph, surpris'd,
CUPID AND GANYMEDE.
IN IIeaven, one holiday, you read
In wise: Anacreon, Ganymele The silken bond, and held him fast.
Drew heedless Cupid in, to throw The god awak'd; and thrice in vain
A main, to pass an hour, or so. He strove to break the cruel chain;
The little Trojan by the way, And thrice in vain he shook his wing,
By Hermes taught, play'd all the play, Encumber'd in the silken string.
The god unhappily engag'd, Fluttering the god, and weeping, said,
By nature rash, by play enrag'd, “Pity poor Cupid, generous maid,
Complain'd, and sigh'd, and cried and fretted: Who happen'd, being blind, to stray,
Lost every carthly thing he betted: And on thy bosom lost his way;
In really money, all the store Who stray'd, alas! but knew too well,
Pick'd up long since fro:n Danaë's shower; Jle never there must hope to dwell:
A snuff-box, set with bleeding hearts, Set an unhappy prisoner free,
Rubies, all pierc'd with diamond darts; Who ne'er intended harm to thec.”
His nine-pins made of myrtle wood “ To me pertains not,” she replies,
(The tree in Ida's forest stood); “ To know or care where Cupid flies;
His bowl pure gold, the very same What are bis haunts, or which his way; Which Paris gave the Cyprian dame; Where he would dwell, or whither stray : Two table-books in slagreen covers, Yet will I never set thee free;
Fill'd with good verse from real lovers; For barm was meant, and harm to me.”
Merchandise rare ! a billet-doux, “Vain fears that vex thy virgin heart! Its matter passionate, yet true; I'll give thee up my bow and dart;
Heaps of hair-rings, and cypher'd scals; Untangle but this cruel chain,
Rich triiles; serious bagatelles.
What sad disorders play begrets !
Desperate and mad, at length he sets
Those darts, whose points make gols adore The chain I'll in return untie;
His might, and deprecate his poiler: And freely thou again shalt fly.”
Those darts, whence all our joy and pain Thus she the captive did deliver ;
Arise: those darts" Come, seven's the main, The captive thus gave up his quiver.
Cries Ganymede : the vsual trick : The god disarm'd, e'er since that day,
Seven, slar a six; eleven, a nick Passes his life in harmless play;
· Ill news goes fast: 'twas quickly known Flies round, or sits upon her breast,
That simple ('upid was undone. A little, fluttering, idle guest.
Swifter than lightning Venus flew: E'er since that day, the beauteous maid Too late she found the thing too true. Governs the world in Cupid's stead;
Guess how the goldess greets her son: Directs his arrow as she wills;
" Come hither, sirral; no, legune! Gives grief, or pleasure ; spares, or kills. And, hark ye, is it so indeed ?
A comrade you for Ganymede?
As any carthly larly's page;
A scandal and a scourge to Troy;
A prince's son! a black-guardi boy ; Bound her neck her comely tresses tied,
A sharper, that with box and dice Her ivory quiver graceful by her side,
Draws in young deities to vicc.
All Heaven is by the ears together,
Juno heisclf has had no peace: ,
“ And thou, uuhappy child," she said, Or on Meander's bank, or Latmus' peak.
(Fler anger by her grief allay'd)
CUPID MISTAKEN... VENUS MISTAKEN...THE DOVE. 149 Inhappy child, who thus hast lost
But she tomorrow will return : All the estate we e'er could boast;
Venus, be thou tornorrow great; Whither, O whither wilt thou run,
Thy myrtles strow, thy odours burn,
And meet thy favourite nymph in state.
Let us tomorrow's blessings own:
And all the day be thine alone.
-Tantæne animis cælestibus irr?
In Virgil's sacred verse we find, While that bright magazine shall last :
That passion can depress or raise Your crowded altars still shall smoke;
The heavenly, as the human mind :
Who dare deny what Virgil says ?
But if they should, what our great master
Has thus laid down, my tale shall prove :
Of having lost her favourite Dove.
In complaisance poor Cupid mourn'd;
Ilis grief reliev'd his mother's pain; Venus stood bathing in a river;
He vow'd he'd leave no stone unturn'd, Cupid a-shooting went that way,
But she should have her Dove again. New strung his bow, new fill'd his quiver.
Though none," said he, “shall yet be nam'de With skill he chose his sharpest dart,
I know the felon well enough: With all his might his bow he drew;
But be she not, Mamma, condemn'd Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
Without a fair and legal proof.” The too-well-guided arrow flew.
With that, his longest dart he took, " I faint! I die !” the goddess cried :
As constable would take his staff: * O cruel, could'st thou find none other, That gods desire like men to look, To wreck thy spleen on? parricide!
Would make e'en Heraclitus laugh. Like Nero, thou hast slajn thy mother."
Love's subalterns, a duteous band, Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
Like watchinen, round their chief appears “ Indeed, mamma, I did not know ye :
Each had his lantern in his hand; Alas! how easy my mistake!
And Venus inask'd brought up the rear. I took you for your likeness Cloe.”
Accoutred thus, their eager step
To Cloe's lodging they directed:
(At once I write, alas! and weep, VENUS MISTAKEN.
That Cloe is of theft suspected). Whex Cloe's piéturc was tn Venus shown,
Late they set out, had far to go : Surpris'd, the goddess took it for her own. (mean?
St. Dunstan's as they pass'd struck one " And what,” said she, “ does this bold painter
Cloe, for reasons goud, you know, When was I bathing thus, and naked seen?”
Lives at the sober end of th' town. Pleas'd Cupid heard, and check'd his mother's
With one great peal they rap the door,
Like footmen on a visiting-day. pride;
Folks at her house at such an hour! "And who's blind now, mamma?” the urchin cried.
Lord! what will all the neighbours say “ Tis Cloe's eye, and cheek, and lip, and breast : Friend Howard's genius fancied all the rest.” The door is open : up they run:
Nor prayers, nor threats, divert their speed :
They'll kill my mistress in her bed.”
In bed indeed the nymph had been
Thr-e hours : for, all historians say, To case the sickness of the soul,
She commonly went up at ten,
Unless piquet wa's in the way.
She wak’d, be sure, with strange surprise e
O Cupid, is this right or law, And scek for pleasure, to destroy
Thus to disturb the brightest eyes, The sorrows of this live-long nigbti
That ever slept, or ever saw?
Have you observ'd a sitting harr,
“ Search, then,” she said, “ put in your hand, Listening, and fearful, of the storm
And Cynthia, dear protectress, guard me: Of horns and hounds, clap back her car,
As guilty 1, or free., may stand, Afraid to keep, or leave her form?
Do thou or punish or reward me." Or hare you mark'd a partridge quake,
But ah? what maid to Love can trust! Viewing the towering falcon nigh?
He scorns, and breaks, all legal power : She cuddles low behind the brake:
Into her breast his hand he thrust; Nor would she stay; nor dares she fly.
And in a moment forc'd it lower. Then have you sorn the beauteous maid;
0, whither do those fingers rove,” When gazing on her midnight foes,
Cries Cloe, “ treacherous urchin, whither?» She turn'd rach way her frighted head,
“ O Venus! I shall And thy Dove," Then sunk it deep beneath the clothes.
Says he ; for sure I touch his feather."
Incognito : for Susan said,
A LOVER'S ANGER.
As Cloe came into the room t'other day,
I peevislı began: Where so long could you star? And thus to Cloe spoke the god :
In your life-time you never regarded your hour;
You promis d at two; and (pray look child,) 'tis “Hold up your head : hold up your hand :
four. Woul i it were not my lot to show ye
A lady's watch needs peither figures nor whers : This cruel writ, wherein you stand
'Tis enough, that'tis loaried with baubles and scals. Indicted by the name of Cloe!
A temper so heedless no mortal can bear," " For that, by secret malice stirrd,
Thus far I went on with a resolute air. (speak!" Or by an emulous pride invited,
“ Lord bless me!" said she; “ let a boily but You have purloin'd the favourite bird,
H re's an ugly hard rose-bod fallen into my neck: In which my mother most delighted.”
It has hurt me, and vext ine to such a degreece
See here! for you never believe me; pray see, Her blushing face the lovely maid Rais'd just above the milk-white sheet;
On the left side my breast, what a mark it has
made!” A rose-tree in a lily bed Nor glows so red, nor breathes so
So saying, her besoin she careless display'd:
That seat of delight I with wonder survey'd " Are ye not he whom virgins fear, And widows court? is not your name
And forgot every word I design'd to have said. Cupid ? If so, pray come not ncar
« Fair maiden, I'm the very same. Then what have I, good sir, to say, Or do with her you call your mouer!
MERCURY AND CUPID If I should meet hier in my way,
Is sullen humour one day Jove We hardly court'sy to each other.
Sent llerines down to Ida's grove, “ Diana chaste, and Hebe sweet,
Commanding Cupid to deliver Witness that what I speak is true ;
His store of darts, his total quiver; I would not give my paroquet
That Herines should the weapons break, For all the Doves that ever flew.
Or throw them into Lethe's lake.
Hermes, you know, must do bis errandy Yet, to compose this midnight noise,
Ile founel his inan, produc'd his warrant : Go freely search where-e'er you please,
Cupid ! your darts--this very hour(The rage, that rajs’d, adora'd her voice)
There's no contending against power!" Upon yon tilit lie my keys
How sullen Jupiter, just now, Her keys b- takes; her doors unlocks ;
I think I said, and you'll allow Through wardrobe and through closet bounces; That Cupid was as bad as he: Peeps into every chest and box;
Hear but the youngster's repartee. Turns all her furbeloes and founces.
Come, kinsman,” said the little god, But dove, depend on't, finds he none;
Put url your wings, lay by your rod ; So to the bed returns again :
Retire with me to yonder bower, And now the maiden, bolder grown,
And rest yourself for half an hour: Bigins to treat him with disdain.
'Tis far indced from hence to Heaven;
But you fiy fast: and 'tis but seven. " I marvel much,” she smiling said,
We'll take one cooling cup of nectar; “ Your poultry cannot yet be found
And drink to this celestial Hector. Lies he in yonder slipper dead?
He break my darts! or hurt my power Or, may be, in the tea-pot drown'l?»
He, Leda's swan and Danaë's shower! “ No, traitor,” angry Love réplies,
Go, bid him his wise tongue restrain, “ He's hid somewhere about your breast; And mind his thunder, and his rain. A place nor god nor man denies,
My darts! O certainly I'll give 'em : For Venus's Dove the proper nest.”
Fromn Cloe's eyes he shall receive 'eru.
ON BEAUTY.. THE QUESTION. LISETTA'S REPLY. There's one, the best in all my quiver,
Here listening Cloe smild, and said: Twang! through his very heart and liver;
" Your riddle is not hard to read: He then shall pine, and sigh, and rave:
I guess it."-"Fair one, if you do, Good Lord! what bustle shall we have!
Need I, alas! the theme pursue? Neptune must straight be sent to sea,
For this, thou seest, for this I leave And Flora summon'd twice a day:
Whate'er the world thinks wise or grave, One must find shells, and t' other flowers,
Ambition, business, friendship, news, For cooling grots, and fragrant bowers,
My useful books, and serious Muse. That Cloe may be serv'd in state,
For this, I willingly decline The Hours must at her toilet wait:
The mirth of feasts, and joys of wine; W blist all the reasoning fools below
And choose to sit and talk with thee Wonder their watches go too slow.
(As thy great orders may decree) Lybs musi fly south, and Eurus east,
Of cocks and bulls, and flutes and fiddles,
Of idle tales and foolish riddles.”
Want nymph should I admire or trust,
But Cloe beauteous, Cloe just? And thou, poor consin, must compose
What nymph hould I desire to see, His letters in submissive prose;
But ber who leaves the plain for me? Whilst haughty Cloe, to sustain
To whom should I compose the lay, The honour of my mystic reign,
But her who listens when I play? Shall all his gifts and vous disilain,
To whom in song repeat my cares, And laugh at your old bully's pain."
But her who in iny sorrow shares?
And boa-ts she wears it for my sake.
Lisetta, prythee tell the rest.
The violet sweet and lily fair,
To deck my charıning Cloe's hair.
l'pon her brow the various wreath;
The scent less fragrant than her breath.
And every nymph and shepherd said,
Than glowing in their native bed.
Undrest at evening, when she found
When in my glass I chanc'd to look ; Their odours lost, their colours past;
Of Venus what did I implore? She chang'd her look, and on the ground
That every grace, which thence I took, Her garland and her eye she cast.
Should know to charm my Damon more. That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,
Reading thy verse; “ Who heeds," said I, As any Muse's tongue could speak,
“ If here or there his glances fiew? When from its lid a pearly tcar
O, free for ever be his eye, Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
Whose heart to me is always true !"
My bloom indeed, my little flower Dissembling what I knew too well, “ My love, my life," said I, explain
Of Beauty quickly lost its pride:
For, sever'd from its native bower, This change of humour: pr'ythee tell :
It on thy glowing bosom dy'd. That falling tear-what does it mean?"
Yet card I not what might presage She sigh'd; she smil'd: and, to the flowers
Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth; Pointing, the lovely moralist said :
Love I esteem'd more strong than Age, “ See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
And Time less permanent than Truthe See yonder, what a change is made !
Why then I weep, forbear to know : “ Ah, me! the blooming pride of May,
Fall uncontrollid, my tears, and free; And that of Beauty, are but onc:
O Damon! tis the only woe, At mom both flourish bright and gay ;
I ever yet conceal'd from thee. Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.
The secret wound with which I bleed At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung;
Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my hearse; The amorous youth around her bow'd :
But on my tonb-stone thou shalt read At night her fatal knell was rung;
My answer to thy dubious verse. I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud. “ Such as she is, who died today;
Such I, alas! may be tomorrow : Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display
ANSWER TO CHLOE JEALOUS, The justice of thy Cloe's sorrow.
IN THE SAME STYLE; THE AUTHOR SICE. Yes, fairest proof of Beauty's power,
Dear idol of my panting heart,
Nature points this my fatal hour:
While now I take my last adieu,
Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear;
Lest yet my half-clos'd eye may view
On earth an object worth its care. Since I am not what I was,
From Jealousy's torinenting strife What from this day I shall be,
For ever be thy bosom freed : Venus, let me never set.
That nothing may disturb thy life,
Content I hasten to the dead.
Shall with his amorous parley move thee;
Reflect one moment on his truth
Who, dying thus, persists to love thee.
A BETTER ANSWER.
Dear Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face! Emblems, to teach a female wit
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: The ways, where changing Capid Aics ?
Pr’ythce quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says) Your riddle purpos'd to rehearse
Let us ev'n talk a little like folks of this world. The general power that beauty has :
How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy But why did not peculiar verse
The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keepDescribe one charm of Cloe's face ?
ing? The glass, which was at Venus' shrine,
Those looks were design'd to inspire love and joy: With sneh niysterious sorrow laid:
More ordinary eyes may serve people for weepe The garland (and you call it mine)
ing. Which show'd how youth and beauty fade : To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ, Ten thousand trifles light as these
Your judgment at once, and my passion, you Nor can my raze, nor anger, inove :
wrong: She should be bumble, who would please ;
You take that for fact,which will scarce be found wit: And she must sufler, who can love.
Od’s-life! must one swear to the truth of a song!