Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Twas a youth, that Cupid sold,
(To dally thus with Cupid, bold!)
But a waxen Cupid: I
Inquir'd of him, then standing by,
“What will you for this image take?”
Then he said, “For the God's sake,”
(And in the Dorick tongue he spake,)
“I sell him at what price you will;
“Not with coin to pay my skill,
“For I these figures not create:
“No, I like not, at any rate,
“With Cupid, who is false, t' abide;
“With Cupid, never satisfied.”

“Give him to me, then; give him me,
“For this drachm; and he shall be
“At my board, companion free.”

Now then, Cupid, haste t' inspire
Me with love's immortal fire:
Or, to say the truth, you go
To the fiery hearth below.