'WHY languish I, ye Gods, alone? Why only I? when not one groan Afflicteth her for whom I die: You mighty powers of Love, oh why Doth Melidore despise your darts, And their effects too, bleeding hearts? If thus, oh Gods, ye suffer her Unpunished, none will prefer Your altars; such examples may Become the ruin of your sway.' With Venus and her mighty son Expostulating thus, I won This answer: 'Alas,' Cupid cries, 'I hood-wink'd am; my closed eyes Bound with a fillet, that my bow Can none but roving shafts let go; Hence 'tis that troops of violent Youth their misplaced loves resent; That some love rashly; some again Congealed are with cold disdain: Wouldst thou thy mistress, I inspire, And in her breast convey that fire Which nature suffers not to find Birth from thy tears? Do but unbind My eyes, and I will take such aim, As she shall not escape my flame.' Thus spake the boy, my ready hand Prepared was to loose the band From his fair eyelids, that his sight Might to his dart give steady flight; When my good Genius' prudent ear Whisper'd to my rash soul, Beware! Ah, shameless boy, deceitful Love, I see thy plot: should I remove Those chains of darkness from thy eyes, Thou Melidore so much would prize, That straight my rival thou wouldst be, And warm her for thyself, not me. |