Her bodice half-way she unlac'd ;
About his arms she flily cast
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 fhook his wing,
Incumber'd in the filken ftring.
Fluttering the God, and weeping, said,
Pity poor Cupid, generous maid,
Who happen'd, being blind, to ftray,
And on thy bofom loft his way;
Who ftray'd, alas! but knew too well,
He never there muft hope to dwell:
Set an unhappy prifoner free,
Who ne'er intended harm to thee.
To me pertains not, fhe 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: fecure my virgin heart:
Inftant give up thy bow and dart :
The chain I'll in return untie;
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 fince that day,
Paffes his life in harmless play ;
Flies round, or fits upon her breast,
A little, fluttering, idle guest.
E'er fince that day, the beauteous maid
Governs the world in Cupid's ftead;
Directs his arrow as fhe wills;
Gives grief, or pleasure; fpares, or kills.
BEHIND her neck her comely treffes tied,
Her ivory quiver graceful by her fide,,
A-hunting Cloe went: fhe loft her way,
And through 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 close in yonder brake.
Loud Cupid laugh'd, to fee 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 fister seek,
Or on Meander's bank, or Latmus' peak.
But in this nymph, my friend, my fister know:
She draws, my arrows, and the bends my bow:
Fair Thames the haunts, and every neighbouring grove,
Sacred to foft recefs, and gentle love.
Go, with thy Cynthia, hurl the pointed fpear
At the rough boar, or chafe the flying deer :
I and my Cloe take a nobler aim :
At human hearts we fling, nor ever miss the game.
N Heaven, one holy-day, you read
In wife Anacreon, Ganymede
Drew heedlefs Cupid in, to throw
A main, to pafs an hour, or fo.
The little Trojan, by the way,
By Hermes taught, play'd all the play.
The god unhappily engag'd,
By nature rafh, by play enrag'd,
Complain'd, and figh'd, and cried, and fretted;
Loft every earthly thing he betted:
In ready money, all the ftore
Pick'd-up long fince from Danaë's fhower;
A fnuff-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 flood);
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 feals;
Rich trifles; ferious bagatelles.
What fad diforders play begets!
Defperate and mad, at length he fets
Those darts, whofe points makes gods adore
His might, and deprecate his power:
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 faft: 'twas quickly known,
That fimple Cupid was undone.
Swifter than lightning Venus flew :
Too late the found the thing too true.
Guess how the goddess greets her fon:
Come hither, firrah; no, begone;
And, hark ye, is it fo indeed?
A comrade you for Ganymede ?
An imp as wicked, for his age,
As any earthly lady's page,
A scandal and a fcourge to Troy;
A prince's fon; a black-guard boy;
A fharper, that with box and dice
Draws in young deities to vice.
All Heaven 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 fuch a god,
And taken ways extremely odd.
And thou, unhappy child, the faid,
(Her anger by her grief allay'd)
Unhappy child, who thus haft loft
All the eftate 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 power in Heaven be own'd;
When thou nor man nor god canft wound.
Obedient Cupid kneeling cried,
Ceafe, dearest mother, ceafe to chide :
Gany's a cheat, and I'm a bubble:
Yet why this great excefs of trouble?
The dice were falfe: the darts are gone :
Yet how are you, or I, undone ?
The lofs of these I can fupply
With keener fhafts from Cloe's
Fear not we e'er can be disgrac'd,
While that bright magazine shall last :
Your crouded altars ftill fhall smoke;
And man your friendly aid invoke:
Jove fhall again revere your power,
And rife a fwan, or fall a fhower.
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