CUPID AS MISTAKEN. I. S after noon, one fummer's day, Cupid a-shooting went that way, New ftrung his bow, new fill'd his quiver. II. With fkill he chofe his fharpeft dart, With all his might his bow he drew; I faint! I die! the goddefs cried : Poor Cupid fobbing scarce could speak; I took you for your likeness Cloe. VENUS MISTAKEN. I. WHEN Cloe's picture was to Venus fhown; Surpriz'd, the goddess took it for her own. And what, faid fhe, does this bold painter mean? When was I bathing thus, and naked feen? 7 II. Pleas'd II. Pleas'd Cupid heard, and check'd his mother's pride : I A SONG wine and mufick have the power The forrows of this live-long night. But the to-morrow will return: Venus, be thou to-morrow great; Let us to-morrow's bleffings own: THE. THE DOVE. "Tantæne animis cœleftibus iræ?" VIRG. I. IN N Virgil's facred verfe we find, That paffion can deprefs or raise The heavenly, as the human mind: Who dare deny what Virgil says ? II. But, if they should, what our great mafter Of having loft her favourite Dove. In complaifance poor Cupid mourn'd; His grief reliev'd his mother's pain; Though none, faid he, shall yet be nam'd, V. With that, his longest dart he took, That gods defire like men to look, VOL. I. I VI. Love's VI. Love's fubalterns, a duteous band, Like watchmen, round their chief appear: VII. the rear. Accouter'd thus, their eager ftep Late they fet out, had far to go: With one great peal they rap the door, Folks at her house at fuch an hour! Lord! what will all the neighbours say? The door is open up they run: Nor prayers, nor threats, divert their speed : Thieves! thieves! cries Sufan; we 're undone; They'll kill my miftrefs in her bed. XI. In bed indeed the nymph had been Three hours for, all historians fay, She commonly went up at ten, Unless piquet was in the way. XII. She XII. She wak'd, be fure, with strange furprizes O Cupid, is this right or law, Thus to disturb the brightest eyes,. That ever flept, or ever faw? XIII. Have you obferv'd a fitting hare, Or have you mark'd a partridge quake, Nor would she stay: nor dares she fly, Then have you feen the beauteous maid Venus this while was in the chamber It smelt fo ftrong of myrrh and amber- XVII. But, fince we have no prefent need With Cupid let us e'en proceed; I 2 XVIII. Hol |