BENEATH a Myrtle's verdant Shade
AS CLOE half asleep 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 furpriz'd,
Yet Mistress of her felf, devis'd,
How She the Vagrant might inthral,
And Captive Him, who Captives All.
Her Boddice half way She unlac'd:
About his Arms She flily caft
The filken Bond, and held Him faft.
The God awak'd; and thrice in vain.
He ftrove to break the cruel Chain;
And thrice in vain He fhook his Wing,
Incumber'd in the filken String.
Flutt'ring the God, and weeping said, Pity poor CUPID, generous Maid, Who happen'd, being Blind, to stray, And on thy Bosom loft his Way:
Who stray'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 ftray:
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: Secure my Virgin Heart:
Inftant give up thy Bow and Dart:
The Chain I'll in Return unty;
And freely Thou again fhalt fly.
Thus She the Captive did deliver: The Captive thus gave up his Quiver.
The God disarm'd, e'er fince that Day
Paffes his Life in harmless Play;
Flies round, or fits upon her Breast,
A little, flutt'ring, idle Gueft.
E'er fince that Day the beauteous Maid Governs the World in CUPID'S ftead; Directs his Arrow as She wills;
Gives Grief, or Pleasure; fpares, or kills.
BEHIND her Neck her comely Treffes ty'd,
Her Iv'ry Quiver graceful by her Side,
A-Hunting CLOE went: She loft her Way,
And thro' the Woods uncertain chanc'd to ftray.
APOLLO paffing by beheld the Maid;
And, Sister Dear, bright CYNTHIA turn, He said:
The hunted Hind lyes clofe in yonder Brake.
Loud CUPID laugh'd, to see the God's Miftake;
And laughing cry'd, Learn better, great Divine,
To know Thy Kindred, and to honour Mine.
Rightly advis'd, far hence Thy Sifter seek,
Or on MEANDER's Bank, or LATMUS' Peak.
But in This Nymph, My Friend, My Sister know:
She draws My Arrows, and She bends My Bow:
Fair THAMES She haunts, and ev'ry neighb'ring Grove
Sacred to foft Recefs, and gentle Love.
Go, with Thy CYNTHIA, hurl the pointed Spear
At the rough Boar; or chace the flying Deer:
I and My CLOв take a nobler Aim:
At human Hearts We fling, nor ever mifs the Game.
N Heav'n, one Holy-day, You read
In wife Anacreon, GANYMEDE
Drew heedless CUPID in, to throw TURMAT
A Main, to pass an Hour, or fo.
The little Trojan, by the way,
By HERMES taught, play'd All the Play.
The God unhappily engag'd, gun,digid andı
By Nature rafh, by Play enrag'd, ha rik odd on
Complain'd, and figh'd, and cry'd, and fretted
Loft ev'ry earthly thing He betted:
In ready Mony, all the Store
Pick'd up long fince from DANA B's Show'rs
A Snush-Box, fet with bleeding Hearts,
Rubies, all pierc'd with Diamond Darts
His Nine-pins, made of Myrtle Wood;
(The Tree in IDA's Foreft ftood)
His Bowl pure Gold, the very fame
Which PARIS gave the CYPRIAN Dame;
Two Table-Books in Shagreen Covers!
Fill'd with good Verfe from real Lovers T
Merchandise rare! A Billet doux,
It's Matter paffionate, yet true:
Heaps of Hair: Rings, and cypher'd Seals in
Rich Trifles; ferious Bagatelles, ol ) son agrib emis
Thofe 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, Seven's the Main,
Cries GANYMEDE: The ufual Trick:
Seven, flur a Six; Eleven: A Nick.
Ill News goes faft: 'Twas quickly known,
That fimple CUPID was undone.
Swifter than Lightning VENUS flew:
Too late She found the thing too true.
Guess how the Goddefs greets her Son:
Come hither, Sirrah; 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 Son? 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 her felf has had no Peace:
And truly I've been favour'd lefs:
For JOVE, as FAME reports, (but FAMB
Says things not fit for Me to name)
Has acted ill for fuch a God,
And taken Ways extreamly odd.
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