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.

Thus she the captive did deliver;
The captive thus gave up his quiver.
The god disarmed, 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.

BEHIND 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 chanced 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 laughed, to see the god's mistake;
And laughing, cried, Learn better, great divine,
To know thy kindred, and to honour mine.

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Rightly advised, far hence thy sister seek,
Or on Meander's bank, or Latmos' peak.

But in this nymph, my friend, my sister know:
She draws my arrows, and she bends my bow:

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Fair Thames she haunts, and every neighbouring 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. 20

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, played all the play.

The god unhappily engaged,

By nature rash, by play enraged,

Complained, and sighed, and cried, and fretted;

Lost every earthly thing he betted:

In ready-money, all the store

Picked up long since from Danaë's shower;

A snuff-box, set with bleeding hearts,

Rubies, all pierced 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;
Two table-books in shagreen covers;
Filled with good verse from real lovers;

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Merchandise rare! a billet-doux,
Its matter passionate, yet true;
Heaps of hair rings, and ciphered seals;
Rich trifles; serious bagatelles.

What sad disorders play begets! Desperate and mad, at length he sets Those darts, whose points make gods adore His might, and deprecate his power; Those darts, whence all our joy and pain Arise: those darts-Come, seven's the main, 30 Cries Ganymede; the usual trick;

Seven, slur a six; eleven, a nick.

Ill news go fast: 'twas quickly known,

That simple 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, begone;
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 blackguard boy;
A sharper, 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 favoured less:
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.

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And thou, unhappy child, she said
(Her anger by her grief allayed),
Unhappy child, who thus hast lost
All the estate we e'er could boast;
Whither, O whither wilt thou run,

Thy name despised, thy weakness known?
Nor shall thy shrine on earth be crowned;
Nor shall thy power in Heaven be owned;
When thou, nor man, nor god canst wound.
Obedient Cupid kneeling cried,
Cease, dearest mother, cease to chide:
Gany's a cheat, and I'm a bubble:
Yet why this great excess of trouble?
The dice were false: the darts are gone:
Yet how are you or I undone ?

The loss of these I can supply
With keener shafts from Cloe's eye:
Fear not we e'er can be disgraced,
While that bright magazine shall last.
Your crowded altars still shall smoke;
And man your friendly aid invoke:
Jove shall again revere your power,
And rise a swan, or fall a shower.

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CUPID MISTAKEN.

1 As after noon, one summer's day, Venus stood bathing in a river,

Cupid a-shooting went that way,

New strung his bow, new filled his quiver.

2 With skill he chose his sharpest dart, With all his might his bow he drew;

Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
The too well-guided arrow flew.

3 I faint! I die! the goddess cried;

O cruel, couldst thou find none other,
To wreck thy spleen on? Parricide!

Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.

4 Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak; Indeed, mamma, I did not know ye: Alas! how easy my mistake;

I took you for your likeness Cloe.

VENUS MISTAKEN.

1 WHEN Cloe's picture was to Venus shown,
Surprised, the goddess took it for her own.
And what, said she, does this bold painter mean,
When was I bathing thus, and naked seen?

2 Pleased Cupid heard, and checked his mother's pride: And who's blind now, mamma? the urchin cried. 'Tis Cloe's eye, and cheek, and lip, and breast: Friend Howard's genius fancied all the rest.

A SONG.

IF wine and music have the power
To ease the sickness of the soul;
Let Phoebus every string explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl.
Let them their friendly aid employ,
To make my Cloe's absence light;
And seek for pleasure, to destroy
The sorrows of this live-long night.

E