 | Poems (1931) |  |
No. 47. Cupid's Shaft
1
Through the smooth Fringe of shining Jett,The Edging round your Eye-lid set,
His Bow the hidden Archer drew,
And shot your destin'd Captive through.
2
Stung to the Soul, in vain he rovesTo Courts of Kings from silent Groves,
In vain He mingles with the Throng:
He bears th' invenom'd Shaft along.
3
Should he to Britain bid adieu,Still would Your fatal Form pursue,
Climb up the Vessel's painted Side,
Or with the winged Courser ride.
4
Whether your Slave shall drag his ChainAcross the rough Hibernian Main,
Or his unalter'd Breast shall beat
In far Hesperia's sultry Heat.
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5
Though foreign Nymphs may tempt his Eyes,Still shall Your conqu'ring Image rise,
And teach to praise or slight the Fair
As they Your lov'd Resemblance bear.
[Tickell papers.]
| Poems (1931) | |