Great was the rival, and the god severe :
Nor could he hide his flame, nor durft reveal.
The prince, renown'd in bounty as in arms,
With pity faw the ill-conceal'd distress;
Quitted his title to Campafpe's charms,
And gave the fair one to the friend's embrace.
-VI.
Thus the more beauteous Cloe fat to thee,
Good Howard, emulous of the Grecian art:
But happy thou, from Cupid's arrow free,
And flames that pierc'd thy predeceffor's heart.
Had thy poor breast receiv'd an equal pain;
Had I been vefted with the monarch's pow'r ;
Thou must have figh'd, unlucky youth, in vain;
Nor from my bounty hadft thou found a cure.
VIII.
Tho' to convince thee, that the friend did feel
A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,
I would have footh'd the flame, I could not heal; Giv'n thee the world; tho' I with-held the fair.
Eneath a myrtle's verdant shade
As Cloe half afleep was laid,
Cupid perch'd lightly on her breast,
And in that heav'n defir'd to reft:
Over her paps his wings he spread:
Between he found a downy bed,
And neftl'd in his little head.
Still lay the god: the nymph furpris'd,
Yet mistress of herself, devis'd,
How she the vagrant might inthral,
And captive him, who captives all.
Her bodice half way she unlac'd
About his arms she flily caft
The filken bond, and held him fast.
The god awak'd; and thrice in vain
He ftrove to break the cruel chain;
And thrice in vain he shook his wing,
Incumber'd in the filken ftring.
Flutt'ring the god, and weeping said,
Pity poor Cupid, generous maid,
Who happen'd, being blind, to stray,
And on thy bofom loft his way:
Who ftray'd, alas! but knew too well,
He never there must hope to dwell.
Set an unhappy pris'ner free,
Who ne'er intended harm to thee.
To me pertains not, she replies,
To know or care where Cupid flies;
What are his haunts, or which his way;
Where he would dwell, or whither stray:
Yet will I never fet thee free:
For harm was meant, and harm to me.
Vain fears that vex thy virgin heart!
I'll give thee up my bow and dart:
Untangle but this cruel chain,
And freely let me fly again.
Agreed: fecure my virgin heart:
Instant give up thy bow and dart:
The chain I'll in return unty;
And freely thou again shalt fly.
Thus fhe the captive did deliver;
The captive thus gave up his quiver.
The god difarm'd, e'er since that day
Paffes his life in harmless play;
Flies round, or fits upon her breast,
A little, flutt'ring, idle guest.
E'er fince that day the beauteous maid
Governs the world in Cupid's ftead;
Directs his arrow as the wills;
Gives grief, or pleasure; spares, or kills.
Ehind her neck her comely treffes ty'd,
Her iv'ry quiver graceful by her fide,
A-hunting Cloe went: fhe loft her way,
And thro' the woods uncertain chanc'd to stray.
Apollo paffing by beheld the maid;
And, fifter dear, bright Cynthia turn, he said:
The hunted hind lies clofe in yonder brake.
Loud Cupid laugh'd, to see the god's mistake;
And, laughing cry'd, learn better, great divine,
To know thy kindred, and to honour mine.
Rightly advis'd, far hence thy fister seek,
Or on Meander's bank, or Latmus' peak.
But in this nymph, my friend, my fister know:
She draws my arrows, and she bends my bow:
Fair Thames fhe haunts, and ev'ry neighb'ring grove
Sacred to foft recefs, and gentle love.
Go, with thy Cynthia, hurl the pointed fpear
At the rough boar; or chace the flying deer:
I and my Cloe take a nobler aim:
At human hearts we fling, nor ever miss the game,
IN heav'n, one holy-day, you read
In wife Anacreon, Ganymede
Drew heedlefs Cupid in, to throw
A main, to pass an hour, or so.
The little Trojan, by the way,
By Hermes taught, play'd all the play.
The god unhappily engag'd,
By nature rash, by play enrag'd,
Complain'd, and figh'd, and cry'd, and fretted;
Loft ev'ry earthly thing he betted:
In ready money, all the store
Pick'd up long fince from Danae's fhow'r;
A fnush-box, fet with bleeding hearts,
Rubies, all pierc'd with diamond darts;
His nine-pins, made of myrtle wood;
(The tree in Ida's forest stood)
His bowl pure gold, the very fame
Which Paris gave the Cyprian dame;
Two table-books in fhagreen covers;
Fill'd with good verfe from real lovers;
Merchandise rare! a billet-doux,
Its matter paffionate, yet true;
Heaps of hair rings, and cypher'd seals;
Rich trifles; ferious bagatelles.
What fad diforders play begets!
Defp'rate and mad, at length he fets
Those darts, whofe points make gods adore
His might, and deprecate his pow'r :
Those darts, whence all our joy and pain
Arife: thofe darts
-come, feven's the main,
Cries Ganymede: the ufual trick:
Seven, flur a fix; eleven: a nick.
Ill news goes fast: 'Twas quickly known, That fimple Cupid was undone.
Swifter than lightning Venus flew:
Too late she found the thing too true.
Guess how the goddess greets her fon :
Come hither, firrah; no, begon;
And, hark ye, is it so indeed ?
A comrade you for Ganymede?
An imp as wicked, for his age,
As any earthly lady's page;
A scandal and a scourge to Troy :
A prince's fon? a black-guard boy;
A sharper that with box and dice
Draws in young deities to vice.
All heav'n is by the ears together,
Since first that little rogue came hither:
Juno herself has had no peace :
And truly I've been favour'd lefs :
For Jove, as Fame reports, (but Fame
Says things not fit for me to name)
Has acted ill for such a god,
And taken ways extremely odd.
And thou, unhappy child, she said
(Her anger by her grief allay'd)
Unhappy child, who thus haft loft
All the estate we e'er could boast;
Whither, O whither wilt thou run,
Thy name defpis'd, thy weakness known?
Nor fhall thy fhrine on earth be crown'd:
Nor fhall thy pow'r in heav'n be own'd;
When thou, nor man, nor god can'st wound.
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