Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins |
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 | Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses |  |
Jupiter and Calisto.
When now the Thund'rer walkt the Heav'nly round,And all there safe from the late burnings found.
The Fields, the Groves, and Streams he next survey'd,
Where passing to and fro he sees a Lovely Maid.
Tho' there no ruines in her way were strow'd,
The Nymph, the Charming Nymph, inflam'd the God.
Warm'd by her looks, and brighter Glances, more
Than when the Sun fir'd all his Skies before.
She with a Zone her looser Garments ty'd,
Her painted Quiver hanging by her side.
Her flowing Tresses o'er her Shoulders spread,
And her warm Face glow'd with unusual Red.
Thus tir'd with hunting, she to shades retires,
To cool her own, but raise the Thund'rer's Fires.
On flow'ry Banks her Beauteous Limbs she lays,
And to the God a tempting Heav'n displays.
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Her Arms thrown wide, her Quiver bears her Head,
While Jove beheld, admir'd, and Lov'd the Maid.
Diana like, strait from his Heav'n he flies
For her cool Shades, he quits his shining Skies,
And stands before the Virgin, as she lies.
My huntress, says he, while he fondly view'd,
What Game hast thou, this Lovely morn, pursu'd?
Strait did the rising Virgin tow'rds him move,
And thus reply'd; hail, Pow'r more great than Jove.
This the fond God, with smiles, delighted heard,
Pleas'd that himself was to himself prefer'd.
She strait about to Answer more, in hast,
The pressing Lover clasps about her wast,
And Kist her fiercely, and embrac'd her fast.
Just as the Thunder, from his own abode,
With inward struglings flies, so flew the God.
Soon more inflam'd, his Kisses eager grow;
Not such as Maids on their own Sex bestow;
He now would further sweets, and greater transports know.
Impatient grown, he forces her to yield,
And gains by strength, the long disputed Field.
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Alas! What Woman can contend with Jove!
Enjoy'd, he leaves the Nymph, who well might know,
The Chastest Goddess could not use her so.
Rising in hast, strait from the Woods she sprung,
And left her Bow, her useless Bow, unstrung.
She sees Diana, but she dreads the shape,
And Blushing flies her fast, and fears a second Rape.
| Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses | |