N fullen humour one day Jove
Sent Hermes down to Ida's grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His ftore of darts, his total quiver;
That Hermes fhould the weapons break,
Or throw them into Lethe's lake.
Hermes, you know, must do his errand : He found his man, produc'd his warrant : Cupid! your darts this very hour There's no contending against power! How fullen Jupiter, just now, I think I faid and you'll allow, That Cupid was as bad as he : Hear but the youngster's repartee. Come, kinfman (faid the little god), Put off your wings, lay by your Retire with me to yonder bower; And reft yourself for half an hour: 'Tis far indeed from hence to Heaven; But you fly fast: and 'tis but seven. We'll take one cooling cup of nectar; And drink to this celeftial Hector.
He break my darts! or hurt my power! He, Leda's fwan, and Danaë's shower! Go, bid him his wife tongue restrain; And mind his thunder, and his rain.
My darts! O certainly I 'll give 'em :
From Cloe's eyes he fhall receive 'em.
There's one, the best in all my quiver,
Twang! through his very heart and liver;
He then shall pine, and figh, and rave :
Good Lord! what bustle fhall we have!
Neptune must strait be fent to fea;
And Flora fummon'd twice a day :
One must find fhells, and t' other flowers,
For cooling grots, and fragrant bowers,
That Cloe may be ferv'd in state :
The Hours muft at her toilet wait :
Whilft all the reafoning fools below
Wonder their watches go too flow.
Lybs must fly fouth, and Eurus eaft,
For jewels for her hair and breast.
No matter, though their cruel hafte
Sink cities, and lay forests waste.
No matter, though this fleet be loft;
Or that lie wind-bound on the coaft.
What whispering in my mother's ear!
What care, that Juno should not hear!
What work among you fcholar gods!
Phoebus muft write him amorous odes.
And thou, poor coufin, must compose
His letters in fubmiffive profe :
Whilft haughty Cloe, to fuftain
The honour of my myftic reign,
Shall all his gifts and vows difdain;
And laugh at your old bully's pain.
Dear couz, faid Hermes in a fright,
For Heaven's fake! keep your darts: good night.
ESOLVE me, Cloe, what is this:
Or forfeit me one precious kifs.
'Tis the firft offspring of the Graces;
Bears different forms in different places;
Acknowledg'd fine, where'er beheld;
Yet fancied finer, when conceal'd.
'Twas Flora's wealth, and Circe's charm;
Pandora's box of good and harm:
'Twas Mars's wifh, Endymion's dream;
Apelles' draught, and Ovid's theme.
This guided Thefeus through the maze;
And fent him home with life and praise :
But this undid the Phrygian boy;
And blew the flames that ruin'd Troy.
This fhew'd great kindness to old Greece,
And help'd rich Jason to the fleece.
This through the Eaft juft vengeance hurl'd,
And loft poor Anthony the world.
Injur'd, though Lucrece found her doom,
This banish'd tyranny from Rome.
Appeas'd, though Lais gain'd her hire;
This fet Perfepolis on fire..
For this Alcides learn'd to spin :
His club laid down, and lion's skin.
For this Apollo deign'd to keep,
With fervile care, a mortal's fheep.
For this the father of the Gods,
Content to leave his high abodes,
In borrow'd figures loosely ran,
Europa's bull, and Leda's fwan,
For this he reaffumes the nod
(While Semele commands the God);
Launces the bolt, and shakes the poles;
Though Momus laughs, and Juno fcolds.
Here listening Cloe fmil'd, and faid;
Your riddle is not hard to read :
I guess it-Fair-one, if you do ;
Need I, alas! the theme purfue?
For this, thou fee'ft, for this I leave,
Whate'er the world thinks wife or grave,
Ambition, bufinefs, friendship, news,
My useful books, and serious Muse.
For this, I willingly decline
The mirth of feasts, and joys of wine;
And chufe to fit and talk with thee
(As thy great orders may decree)
Of cocks and bulls, and flutes and fiddles, *Of idle tales, and foolish riddles.
WHAT-Nymph fhould I admire, or truft,
But Cloe beauteous, Cloe just ?
What Nymph fhould I desire to see,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To whom should I compofe the lay,
But her who liftens when I play?
To whom in fong repeat my cares,
But her who in my forrow shares?
For whom fhould I the garland make,
But her who joys the gift to take,
And boafts fhe wears it for my fake?
In love am I not fully blest?
Lifetta, pr'ythee tell the reft.
SURE Cloe juft, and Cloe fair,
Deferves to be your only care :
But, when you and she to-day
Far into the wood did stray,
And I happen'd to pass by;
Which way did you caft your eye?
But, when your cares to her you fing,
Yet dare not tell her whence they spring;
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