ONCE for his pleasure Love would go Without his quiver, torch, or bow; He took with him a ploughman's whip, And corn as much as fill'd his scrip; Upon his shoulders hung the load, And thus equipp'd he went abroad; With bulls that often yokes had worn, He plough'd the ground, and sow'd his corn, Then looking up to Heav'n with pride, Thus mighty Jove he vilified. 'Now scorch my field, and spoil my seed, Do, and you shall repent the deed; Europa's bull! I'll make you bow Your haughty neck, and draw my plough.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 57 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE GRAVE OF COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE CONSTANTINOPLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE ORGANIST by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE ARCIERI OF MICHELANGELO by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |