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To great Apelles when young Ammon brought" The darling idol of his captive heart;

And the pleas'd nymph with kind attention sat, To have her charms recorded by his art:

The am’rous master own’d her potent eyes; Sigh’d when he look'd, and trembled as he drew :

Each flowing line confirm'd his first surprise, And as the piece advanc'd, the passion grew.

While Philip's son, while Venus' son was near,
What different tortures does his bosom feel !

Great was the rival, and the god severe:
Nor could he hide his flame, nor durst reveal.

The prince, renown'd in bounty as in arms,
With pity saw the ill-conceal’d distress;

Quitted his title to Campaspe’s charms,
And gave the fair one to the friend's embrace.

books, and medals, which at his death * (March 27, 1737), he bequeathed to his only brother Robert Howard, Bishop of Elphin, who transported them to Ireland. “Mr. Howard's picture was drawn by Dahl, very like, and published in mezzotinto about a year before his death. Howard himself etched from a drawing of Carlo Marati, a head of Padra Resta, the collector, with his spectacles on, turning over a large book of drawings.” * See Pliny's Natural History, B. 35. C. 10.

. He died in Pall-Mall, and was buried at Richmond. Walpole's Anecdotes, vol. iii. p. 156.

Thus the more beauteous Cloe sat to thee,
Good IIoward, emulous of the Grecian art:

But happy thou, from Cupid’s arrow free,
And flames that pierc'd thy predecessor's heart.

Had thy poor breast receiv'd an equal pain;
Had I been vested with the monarch's power;

Thou must have sigh'd, unlucky youth, in vain;
Nor from my bounty hadst thou found a cure.

Though to convince thee, that the friend did feel A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,

I would have sooth'd the flame I could not heal; Giv'n thee the world, though I withheld the fair

LOVE DISARMED.

BENEATH a myrtle's verdant shade
As Cloe half asleep was laid,
Cupid perch’d lightly on her breast,
And in that heav'n desir'd to rest:
Over her paps his wings he spread:
Between he found a downy bed,
And nestled in his little head.
Still lay the god: the nymph surpris'd,
Yet mistress of herself, devis'd
How she the vagrant might enthral,
And captive him, who captives all.

[graphic]

Her bodice half-way she unlac'd; About his arms she slily cast The silken bond, and held him fast. The god awak'd ; and thrice in vain He strove to break the cruel chain; And thrice in vain he shook his wing, Incumber'd in the silken string. Flutt’ring the god, and weeping said, Pity poor Cupid, generous maid, Who happen'd, being blind, to stray, And on thy bosom lost his way; Who stray’d, alas ! but knew too well, He never there must hope to dwell: Set an unhappy prisoner 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 set 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: Instant give up thy bow and dart: The chain. I’ll in return untie; And freely thou again shalt fly.

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Thus she the captive did deliver;
The captive thus gave up his quiver.
The god disarm’d, e'er since that day
Passes his life in harmless play:
Flies round, or sits upon her breast,
A little, fluttering, idle guest.

E’er since that day the beauteous maid
Governs the world in Cupid's stead;
Directs his arrow as she wills;
Gives grief, or pleasure; spares, or kills.

CLOE HUNTING.

BEIIIND her neck her comely tresses tied,
Her ivory quiver graceful by her side,
A-hunting Cloe went : she lost her way,
And through the woods uncertain chanc'd to stray,
Apollo passing by beheld the maid;
And, Sister, dear, bright Cynthia, turn, he said :
The hunted hind lies close in yonder brake.
Loud Cupid laugh'd, to see the god's mistake;
And laughing, cried, Learn better, great divine,
To know thy kindred, and to honour mine.
Rightly advis'd, far hence thy sister 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:

[graphic]

Fair Thames she haunts, and every neighb'ring
grove,
Sacred to soft recess, and gentle love.
Go, with thy Cynthia, hurl the pointed spear
At the rough boar, or chase the flying deer :
I and my Cloe take a nobler aim :
At human hearts we fling, nor ever miss the game.

CUPID AND GANYMEDE.

IN Heaven, one holiday, you read
In wise Anacreon, Ganymede
Drew heedless 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 sigh'd, and cried, and fretted;
Lost every earthly thing he betted :
In ready-money, all the store
Pick'd up long since from Danaë's shower;
A snuff-box, set 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 same
Which Paris gave the Cyprian dame;

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