Can I untouched the fair ones' passions move,
Or thou draw beauty, and not feel its power?

2 To great Apelles when young Ammon brought1
The darling idol of his captive heart;

And the pleased nymph with kind attention sat,
To have her charms recorded by his art;

3 The am'rous master owned her potent eyes;
Sighed when he looked, and trembled as he drew;
Each flowing line confirmed his first surprise,
And as the piece advanced, the passion grew.

4 While Philip's son, while Venus' son was near,
What different tortures does his bosom feel!
Great was the rival, and the god severe :

Nor could he hide his flame, nor durst reveal.

5 The prince, renowned in bounty as in arms,
With pity saw the ill-concealed distress;
Quitted his title to Campaspe's charms,
And gave the fair one to the friend's embrace.

6 Thus the more beauteous Cloe sat to thee,
Good Howard, emulous of the Grecian art;
But happy thou, from Cupid's arrow free,
And flames that pierced thy predecessor's heart.
7 Had thy poor breast received an equal pain,

Had I been vested with the monarch's power, Thou must have sighed, unlucky youth, in vain;

Nor from my bounty hadst thou found a cure.

8 Though to convince thee, that the friend did feel A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,

1 See Pliny's Natural History, b. 35. c. 10.

I would have soothed the flame I could not heal; Given thee the world, though I withheld the fair.

LOVE DISARMED.

BENEATH a myrtle's verdant shade
As Cloe half asleep was laid,
Cupid perched lightly on her breast,
And in that heaven desired to rest:
Over her paps his wings he spread;
Between, he found a downy bed,
And nestled in his little head.

Still lay the god: the nymph surprised,
Yet mistress of herself, devised
How she the vagrant might enthral,
And captive him, who captives all.
Her boddice half-way she unlaced;
About his arms she slily cast

The silken bond, and held him fast.

The god awaked, and thrice in vain
He strove to break the cruel chain;
And thrice in vain he shook his wing,
Incumbered in the silken string.

Flutt'ring the god, then weeping said,
Pity poor Cupid, generous maid,
Who happened, being blind, to stray,
And on thy bosom lost his way;
Who strayed, alas! but knew too well,
He never there must hope to dwell.
Set an unhappy prisoner free,
Who ne'er intended harm to thee.

To me pertains not, she replies,
To know or care where Cupid flies,
What are his haunts, or which his way;

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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, flutt'ring, 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! Desp❜rate 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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