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.
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;
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.
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.
But she to-morrow will return;
Venus, be thou to-morrow great;
Thy myrtles strow, thy odours burn;
And meet thy favourite nymph in state.
Kind goddess, to no other powers
Let us to-morrow's blessings own:
Thy darling loves shall guide the hours,
And all the day be thine alone.
THE DOVE.
-Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ ?-VIRG.
1 IN Virgil's sacred verse we find,
That passion can depress or raise
The heavenly, as the human mind;
Who dare deny what Virgil says!
2 But if they should, what our great master
Has thus laid down, my tale shall prove;
Fair Venus wept the sad disaster
Of having lost her favourite Dove.
3 In complaisance poor Cupid mourned; His grief relieved his mother's pain; He vowed he'd leave no stone unturned,
But she should have her Dove again.
4 Though none, said he, shall yet be named,
I know the felon well enough;
But be she not, mamma, condemned
Without a fair and legal proof.
5 With that, his longest dart he took,
As constable would take his staff;
That gods desire like men to look,
Would make e'en Heraclitus laugh.
6 Love's subalterns, a duteous band,
Like watchmen round their chief appear: Each had his lantern in his hand:
And Venus masked brought up the rear.
7 Accoutred thus, their eager step
To Cloe's lodging they directed:
(At once I write, alas! and weep,
That Cloe is of theft suspected.)
8 Late they set out, had far to go:
St Dunstan's, as they passed, struck one.
Clöe, for reasons good, you know,
Lives at the sober end of the town.
9 With one great peal they rap the door,
Like footmen on a visiting day.
Folks at her house at such an hour!
Lord! what will all the neighbours say?
10 The door is open: up they run:
Nor prayers, nor threats divert their speed:
Thieves! thieves! cries Susan; we're undone;
They'll kill my mistress in her bed.
11 In bed indeed the nymph had been
Three hours; for all historians say,
She commonly went up at ten,
Unless piquet was in the way.
12 She waked, be sure, with strange surprise,
O Cupid, is this right or law,
Thus to disturb the brightest eyes,
That ever slept, or ever saw?
13 Have you observed a sitting hare,
Listening, and fearful of the storm
Of horns and hounds, clap back her ear,
Afraid to keep, or leave her form?
14 Or have you marked a partridge quake,
Viewing the towering falcon nigh?
She cuddles low behind the brake:
Nor would she stay; nor dares she fly.
15 Then have you seen the beauteous maid;
When gazing on her midnight foes,
She turned each way her frighted head,
Then sunk it deep beneath the clothes.
16 Venus this while was in the chamber
Incognito; for Susan said,
It smelt so strong of myrrh and amber-
And Susan is no lying maid.
17 But since we have no present need
Of Venus for an episode,
With Cupid let us e'en proceed;
And thus to Cloe spoke the god:
18 Hold up your head: hold up your hand: Would it were not my lot to show ye This cruel writ, wherein you stand Indicted by the name of Cloe:
19 For that by secret malice stirred, Or by an emulous pride invited,
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