LOVE THE RASCAL by MELEAGER

NOW hue and cry I make for Love! -- wild Love, the runaway,
Now, even now he's left his bed and flown at dawn of day:
A boy of April tears who runs and brags and talks for ever,
And laughs and sneers; and on his back has wings and wears a quiver.
Whose son he is I cannot say, for earth and skies above
And seas, they one and all disown a Gascon like this Love:
By everyone and everywhere he's hated; but beware,
He may be setting for your hearts some new and secret snare:
There, there I spy him near his nest! you've not eluded me,
Small archer, ambushed in the eyes of my Zenophile.

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