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You have purloined the favourite bird
In which my mother most delighted.

20 Her blushing face the lovely maid
Raised just above the milk-white sheet,
A rose-tree in a lily bed
Nor glows so red, nor breathes so sweet.

21 Are you not he whom virgins fear,
And widows court? is not your name
Cupid? If so, pray come not near—
Fair maiden, I'm the very same.

22 Then what have I, good Sir, to say,
Or do with her, you call your mother?
If I should meet her in my way,
We hardly courtesy to each other.

23 Diana chaste, and Hebe sweet,
Witness that what I speak is true:
I would not give my paroquet
For all the Doves that ever flew.

24 Yet, to compose this midnight noise,
Go freely search where'er you please:
(The rage that raised, adorned her voice)
Upon yon toilet lie my keys.

25 Her keys he takes, her doors unlocks;
Through wardrobe, and through closet bounces;
Peeps into every chest and box,
Turns all her furbelows and flounces.

26 But Dove, depend on 't, finds he none; So to the bed returns again;

And now the maiden, bolder grown,
Begins to treat him with disdain.

27 I marvel much, she smiling said,
Your poultry cannot yet be found;
Lies he in yonder slipper dead,
Or may be, in the tea-pot drowned!

28 No, traitress, angry Love replies,
He's hid somewhere about your breast;
A place nor god nor man denies,
For Venus' Dove the proper nest.

29 Search then, she said, put in your hand,
And Cynthia, dear protectress, guard me;
As guilty I, or free may stand,
Do thou, or punish, or reward me.

30 But ah! what maid to Love can trust;
He scorns, and breaks all legal power;
Into her breast his hand he thrust;
And in a moment forced it lower.

31 O, whither do those fingers rove,
Cries Cloe, treacherous urchin, whither?
O Venus! I shall find thy Dove,
Says he; for sure I touch his feather.

A LOWER'S ANGER.

As Cloe came into the room t'other day,
I peevish began; where so long could you stay?
In your life-time you never regarded your hour:
You promised at two; and (pray look, child) 'tis four.
A lady's watch needs neither figures nor wheels; 5
'Tis enough, that 'tis loaded with baubles and seals.
A temper so heedless no mortal can bear—
Thus far I went on with a resolute air.
Lord bless me, said she; let a body but speak:
Here’s an ugly hard rose-bud fall’n into my neck; 10
It has hurt me, and vexed me to such a degree—
See here! for you never believe me; pray see,
On the left side my breast what a mark it has made!
So saying, her bosom she careless displayed:
That seat of delight I with wonder surveyed,
And forgot every word I designed to have said.

MERCURY AND CUPID.

IN sullen humour one day Jove
Sent Hermes down to Ida's grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His store of darts, his total quiver;
That Hermes should the weapons break,
Or throw them into Lethe's lake.
Hermes, you know, must do his errand:
He found his man, produced his warrant;
Cupid, your darts—this very hour—
There's no contending against power. 10
How sullen Jupiter, just now,
I think I said; and you’ll allow,
That Cupid was as bad as he:
Hear but the youngster's repartee.
Come, kinsman (said the little god),
Put off your wings, lay by your rod;
Retire with me to yonder bower,
And rest yourself for half an hour;
"Tis far indeed from hence to Heaven,

But you fly fast; and 'tis but seven. 20
We'll take one cooling cup of nectar;
And drink to this celestial hector—
He break my dart, or hurt my power!
He, Leda's swan, and Danae's shower!
Go, bid him his wife's tongue restrain,
And mind his thunder, and his rain.—
My darts : O certainly I’ll give them:
From Cloe's eyes he shall receive them.
There’s one, the best in all my quiver,
Twang ! through his very heart and liver, 30
He then shall pine, and sigh, and rave:
Good lord ' what bustle shall we have!
Neptune must straight be sent to sea,
And Flora summoned twice a day:
One must find shells, and t'other flowers,
For cooling grots, and fragrant bowers,
That Cloe may be served in state:
The Hours must at her toilet wait:
Whilst all the reasoning fools below
Wonder their watches go too slow. 40
Lybs must fly south, and Eurus east,
For jewels for her hair and breast;
No matter though their cruel haste
Sink cities, and lay forests waste;
No matter though this fleet be lost;
Or that lie wind-bound on the coast.
What whispering in my mother's ear!
What care, that Juno should not hear!
What work among you scholar gods!
Phoebus must write him amorous odes: 50
And thou, poor cousin, must compose
His letters in submissive prose;
Whilst haughty Cloe, to sustain

The honour of my mystic reign, 26.
Shall all his gifts and vows disdain;
And laugh at your old bully's pain.
Dear coz., said Hermes in a fright,
For Heaven's sake, keep your darts! good night.

ON BEAUTY.
A RIDDLE.

RESOLVE me, Cloe, what is this:
Or forfeit me one precious kiss.
'Tis the first offspring of the Graces;
Bears different forms in different places;
Acknowledged fine, where'er beheld;
Yet fancied finer, when concealed,
'Twas Flora's wealth, and Circe's charm;
Pandora's box of good and harm:
'Twas Mars's wish, Endymion's dream;
Apelles' draught, and Ovid's theme. 10
This guided Theseus through the maze;
And sent him home with life and praise.
But this undid the Phrygian boy;
And blew the flames that ruined Troy.
This showed great kindness to old Greece,
And helped rich Jason to the fleece.
This through the east just vengeance hurled,
And lost poor Anthony the world.
Injured, though Lucrece found her doom;
This banished tyranny from Rome. 20
Appeased though Lais gained her hire;
This set Persepolis on fire.
For this Alcides learned to spin:
His club laid down, and lion's skin.
For this Apollo deigned to keep,

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