1

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 ;- i
Merchandise rare!: A Billet-doux,

It's Matter paffionate, yet true :

Heaps of Hair Rings, and cypher'd Seals;
Rich Trifles; ferious Bagatelles.

What fad Disorders Play begets!

Defp'rate and mad, at length He fets

Thofe Darts, whose 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..

Il 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 Goddess greets her Son ::
Come hither, Sirrah; no, begon;
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 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 FAME
Says things not fit for Me to name)

Has acted ill for fuch a God,

And taken Ways extreamly odd.

And Thou, unhappy Child, She faid
(Her Anger by her Grief allay'd)
Unhappy Child, who thus haft loft
All the Eftate We e'er could boaft;
Whither, O whither wilt Thou run,
Thy Name defpis'd, thy Weaknefs known?
Nor fhall thy Shrine on Earth be crown'd:
Nor fhall thy Pow'r in Heav'n be own'd;

When Thou, nor Man, nor God can'ft wound.
Obedient CUPID kneeling cry'd,

Ceafe, dearest Mother, cease to chide :
GANY's a Cheat, and I'm a Bubble:
Yet why this great Excefs of Trouble?
The Dice were false: the Darts are gone:
Yet how are You, or I undone ?

The Lofs of These I can fupply
With keener Shafts from CLOE's Eye:
Fear not, We e'er can be disgrac'd,
While That bright Magazine fhall laft:
Your crowded Altars ftill shall smoke ;
And Man your Friendly Aid invoke :
JOVE fhall again revere your Pow'r,
And rife a Swan, or fall a Show'r.

}

As

CUPID Miftaken.

J.

S after Noon, one Summer's Day,

VENUS food bathing in a River; CUPID a-fhooting went that Way,

New ftrung his Bow, new fill'd his Quiver.

II.

With Skill He chofe his fharpest Dart:
With all his Might his Bow He drew.
Swift to His beauteous Parent's Heart

The too well-guided Arrow flew.

III.

I faint! I die! the Goddess cry'd :

O cruel, could't Thou find none other, To wreck thy Spleen on? Parricide!

Like NERO, Thou haft flain thy Mother,

IV.

Poor CUPID fobbing fearce could speak ;
Indeed, Mamma, I did not know Ye :

Alas! how cafie my Mistake?

I took You for your Likeness CLOE.

VENUS Miftaken.

WHEN

THEN CLOE's Picture was to VENUS fhown;
Surpriz'd, the Goddess took it for Her own.

And what, faid She, does this bold Painter mean?..
When was I Bathing thus, and Naked seen ?

II.

Pleas'd CUPID heard, and check'd His Mother's Pride:
And who's blind now, Mamma? the Urchin cry'ð.
'Tis CLOE's Eye, and Cheek, and Lip, and Breast
Friend How ARD's Genius fancy'd all the rest.

A S O N G.

F Wine and Mufick have the Pow'r,

To ease the Sickness of the Soul;

Let PHOEBUS ev'ry String explore;
And BACCHUS fill the sprightly Bowl..
Let Them their friendly Aid imploy,
To make my CLOE'S Abfence light;
And feek for Pleasure, to destroy
The Sorrows of this live-long Night.

But She to Morrow will return :.
VENUS, be Thou to Morrow great;

Thy

Thy Myrtles ftrow, Thy Odous burn;

And meet Thy Fav rite Nymph in State.
Kind Goddess, to no other Pow'rs

Let Us to Morrow's Bleffings own:

Thy darling LOVES fhall guide the Hours;
And all the Day be Thine alone.

The

DO V E.

·Tantæne animis cœleftibus Ira?

Virg.

I

IN VIRGIL's Sacred Verse we find,
That Paffion can deprefs or raise
The Heav'nly, as the Human Mind :
Who dare deny what VIRGIL fays?

II.

But if They fhou'd; what our Great Master -
Has thus laid down, my Tale fhall prove.
Fair VENUS wept the fad Difafter

Of having loft her Fav'rite DovE,..

III.

In Complaifance poor CUPID mourn'd'; i
His Grief reliev'd his Mother's Pain;

He vow'd he'd leave no Stone unturn'd,
But She fhou'd have her Dove again.