UC-NRLF B 3 315 2fi3 1^<^' %">' 1 ,,«4^>. *»»■■*"■»»•** iiJ »J.'y.i*Jf*».*'«j».n» i-M-'frn ^ j: J , 1 B- li ? ! : r^' 'y V 7 r ■^/ \-^ - - — ■. I \ ^^^J' *''> ^ « < I t t c TO T. F the world'* s entirety Is tzvo eyes that Jhine on me. Lay the blame at Love^ s door, deareft : Thus he made my world to be. He 'j- the hey to Heaven"* s gate ; He 'j the /corn that tramples fate ; He 'j- the worth of livings deareft He 'j the laugh that makes Death late. He 'j the morning fun that wakes us To the worth of all things y deareft ^ He 'j- the influence that makes us Daily gladder, ' //// God takes us ! Tom AS Beauling. M193205 i^ \:S-, CONTENTS PAGE Dedication vii Preface xi Chant Royal of the God of Love i Cupid Millaken 4 Cupid Once Upon a Bed 5 Cupid's Birth 6 Cupid at Court 7 Cupid 8 Cupid's Lottery ." . . 10 Cupid's Curfe 1 1 Love's Flitting 12 Love's Tyranny 13 The Triumph of Cupid 14 Song to Cupid 15 Baniihed Love 16 To Cupid for Pardon 17 Love's Hunting iS Love Goes A-Hawking 19 Love's Blindnefs 20 Love Afleep 21 Dan Cupid's Trick 22 Love's Arrows 24 Love, the Gueft 25 Cupid 26 For Cupid Dead 27 At the Sign of the Blind Cupid 28 Cupid's Arrow 30 Cupid Plague Thee for Thy Treafon . . . . 31 Young Love 's a Gallant Boy 33 Venus' Runaway 34 Beware the Rogue 36 ^^>5 % m The Fair Thief 37 Love and the Witches 39 Love and Dream 40 Cupid Laid by His Brand 41 A Madrigal 42 Love's Reward 44 The Love That is Requited Witli Difdain ... 45 Cupid Relieved 46 Love Baniihed Heaven 47 The Begging Cupid 48 Love! If a God Thou Art 50 Love's Going 5 ' Cupid's Arrows 53 The Growth of Love 54 Love's Qualities 56 Ballade of the Rofe 57 An Awakening 5S Love and a Compals 59 Love is Dead 60 Wily Cupid 62 The Burial of Love 63 Cupid Swallowed 65 The Fillet 66 The Archery Match 68 The Burial of Love 69 Song 70 Love anil Mifchief 71 Damon and Cupid 72 Cupid and Campafpe 74 Love for Love 7 5 A Kifs 76 The Dilemma 77 Love Penitent 79 fer ■*(<^ :::-^^rs^^ ii PREFACE j-Y will be readily apparent that the aim of this Jf volume is to collect the choiceil poems on Cupid fcattered throughout EngHfh literature. A large harveil has been gleaned, and what my judgment counts excellent, lb far as practicable, is reprefented. The attitude towards Cupid has mollly been one of obilinate refiiUnce, but he has the element that wins, — fometimes fantaftically, fometimes pathetically. The be- leaguering little rogue never quits the field de- feated,— to him no fuit is hopeless. If fome of the verfes are not of high value as com- pofitions they are all-important when confidered relative to the fubject, and a majority of the poems are of unqueftionable hterary merit. I beg to acknowledge the gracious favor of The Century Co., Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Life Publilhing Co., Frederick A. Stokes Co., G. P, Putnam's Sons, Charles Scribner's Sons, Cassell Publilhing Co., and D. Appleton & Co., for the ufe of copyright poems. I alfo gratefully acknow- ledge the eminent courtefy of individual authors for permiffion to reprint. ^ . I. R. W. XI ^<\ a- IN CUPID'S COURT CHANT ROYAL OF THE GOD OF LOVE MOST fair God, O Love both new and old. That waft before the flowers of morning blew. Before the glad sun in his mail of gold Leapt into light across the firft day's dew ; That art the firil and laft of our delight. That in the blue day and the purple night Holdeft the hearts of fervant and of king. Lord of lieffe, fovran offorrowing. That in thy hand haft heaven's golden key And hell beneath the fliadow of thy wing. Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee ! What thing rejects thy maftery ? Who fo bold But at thine altars in the dufk they fue r Even the ftraight pale goddess, filver-stoled. That kifled Endymion when the fpring was new. To thee did homage in her own defpite. When in the fliadow of her wings of white She flid down trembling from her mooned ring To where the Latmian youth lay flumbering. And in that kiss put off cold chaftity. Who but acclaim with voice and pipe and ftring, ** Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee !" I Mailer of men and gods, in every fold Of thy wide vans the forceries that renew The labouring earth, tranced with the winter's cold. Lie hid — the quinteflential charms that woo The fouls of flowers, flain with the fullen might Of the dead year, and draw them to the light. Balfam and bleffing to thy garments cling ; Skyward and feaward, whilst thy white palms fling Their fpells of healing over land and fea. One fliout of homage makes the welkin ring, *' Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee ! " I see thee throned aloft; thy fair hands hold Myrtles for joy, and euphrafy and rue: Laurels and rofes round thy white brows rolled. And in thine eyes the royal heaven's hue: But in thy lips' clear colour, ruddy bright. The heart's blood fliines of many a haplefs wight. Thou art not only fair and fweet as Spring; Terror and beauty, fear and wondering Meet on thy front, amazing all who fee: All men do praife thee, ay, and everything! Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! I fear thee, though I love. Who can behold The fheer sun burning in the orbed blue. What while the noontide over hill and wold Flames like a fire, except his mazed view Wither and tremble? So thy fplendid fight Fills me with mingled gladnefs and affright. Thy vifage haunts me in the wavering Of dreams, and in the dawn, awakening, I feel thy splendour ftreaming full on me. Both joy and fear unto thy feet I bring; Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! ENVOY OD above Gods, High and Eternal King^ Whofe praifey the fymphonies of heaven fingy 1 find no whither from thy power to flee y Save in thy pinions^ vafi o'erfjadowing : Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! John Payne. CUPID MISTAKEN .-.^^€4 t y4'=> after noon, one fummer's day, ^/j^ Venus Hood bathing in a river, Cupid a-fhooting went that way. New llrung his bow, new filkd his quiver. With fkill he chofe his fharpell dart, With all his might his bow he drew; Swift to his beauteous parent's heart The too well-guided arrow flew. C^ ** I faint ! I die ! " the goddels cried ; ♦* O cruel, couldlt thou find none other To wreak ihy I'plecn on ? Parricide ! Like Nero, thou hall flain thv mother." '^Z ''IS Poor Cupid fobbing fcarcc could i'peak : " Indeed, mamma, I did not know ve ; Alas ! how eafy my miilake ; I took you for your likenefs, Cloe." Matthew Prior, iw' M. \ ,^ CUPID ONCE UPON A BED •^upiD once upon a bed V>/ Of rofes laid his weary head ; Lucklefs urchin not to fee Within the leaves a flumbering bee ! The bee awaked — with anger wild The bee awaked and ftung the child. Loud and piteous are his cries ; To Venus quick he runs, he flies ! *' O mother ! I am wounded through — I die with pain — in footh I do ! Stung by fome little angry thing. Some ferpent on a tiny wing — A bee it was — for once, I know, I heard a ruilic call it fo." Thus he fpoke, and flie the while Heard him with a foothing fmile ; Then faid, *' My infant, if fo much Thou feel the little wild bee's touch. How mull the heart, ah, Cupid ! be — The haplefs heart that 's Hung by thee ? " Thomas Moore. (Odes of Anacreon.) 5 ^ CUPID'S BIRTH T Cupid's birth, Joy left the bounds of fpace, And, heeding not the liars, flew fall to earth. To hold the hearts of men in warm embrace. At Cupid's birth. Then Life, with beaming eyes and quickened pace. And new-found god-like llrength, firll knew her worth; While Fate began the future to retrace. But Death flood gently by with quiet grace. Aloof from all the tumult and mad mirth, A fweet, fad fmile lit up his lleadfall face At Cupid's birth. R. W. Bunny. CUPID AT COURT OUNG Cupid ilrung his bow one day. And faliied out for fport ; As country hearts were eafy prey. Odd Darts! he went to court. Of all that wore the puff and patch, Belinda led the fair : With falbala, and fan to match, I trow fhe made him ilare ! **Oho!" he cried, and quickly drew His bow upon the sly ; — But though he pierced her bofom through. She never breathed a figh! This was a turn, beyond a doubt. That filled him with amaze. And fo he fought his mother out, With tear-bewildered gaze. **You filly boy," Dame Venus faid, **Why did you wafte your art ? Go clip your curls and hide your head, — Belinda has no heart!" Samuel Minturn Peck. IS •.^>»»^>4.^5^^ 't. TTy^^^ was Cupid a boy, p^ ^ And why a boy was he ? He fhould have been a girl. For aught that I can fee. For he (hoots with his bow. And the girl fhoots with her eye ; And they both are merry and glad. And laugh when we do cry. Then to make Cupid a boy Was furely a woman's plan. For a boy never learns fo much Till he has become a man: And then he 's fo pierced with cares. And wounded with arrowy fmarts. That the whole bufmefs of his life Is to pick out the heads of the darts. William Blake 8 t/*^^^ CUPID*S LOTTERY LOTTERY, a Lottery, In Cupid's Court there ufed to be; Two roguifh eyes The highell prize In Cupid's fcheming Lottery ; And kifles, too. As good as new. Which were n't very hard to win. For he who won The eyes of fun Was fure to have the killes in. A Lottery, a Lottery, etc. This Lottery, this Lottery In Cupid's court went merrily. And Cupid played A Jewifh trade In this his fcheming Lottery ; For hearts, we 're told. In f hares he fold To many a fond believmg drone, And cut the hearts In fixteen parts So well, each thought the whole his own, A Lottery, a Lottery, etc. Thomas Moore. lo CUPID'S CURSE V love is fair, my love is gay. As frefh as are the flowers in May; And of my love the roundelay, My merry, merry roundelay. Concludes vi'ith Cupid's curse: They that do change old love for new. Pray gods they change for worfe ! My love can pipe, my love can fmg, My love can many a pretty thing. And of his lovely praifes ring My merry, merry roundelays. Amen to Cupid's curfe! They that do change old love for new. Pray gods they change for worfe ! George Peele. 1 1 LOVE'S FLITTING T T 7'^^'^ Love is coming, coming, f^ f^ Meet him with fongs and joy. Bid him alight and enter. Flatter and feaft the boy ; Crown him with gems and rofcs. Charm him with winning wiles. Bind him with lovely garlands. And kilfes, and Imiles. \% When Love is going, going. Leaving )-oli all alone. Craving, the fickle t\'rant. Some newer flave and throne, Hinder him not, hut cjuicklv. Even though )our heart may bleed, Saddle a horie for his journey. And bid him (jod-fpeed ! Ei.r/AHi-iii Akkks. LOVE'S TYRANNY ove's tyranny now wherefore fhould I praise, Not being enamoured of my altered plight ! I often figh who once fang roundelays ; I know the fleeplels gnomes that haunt the night. I turn with feverifh jealoufy to hear Words that were fpoken when I was not near. I fliroud my eyes from fights I dare not fee. Yet who fo fpies mull tell his tale to me. Madman am I, who give my vote for death. Yet heed not the grim hand that beckoneth. Love I entreat to go, and while I pray Grafp him with nervous fingers, lell he ilray. Ah ! than love's bleffmg is no deadlier curfe. And yet — and yet — to live undamned were worfe. Percy Hemingway. 13 •^■'"'^^ .4^ THE TRIUMPH OF CUPID ^E came in bufy hours — My holidays are few — He brought the fcent of flowers. And whifpered, dear, of you. I vowed that I would flay him. And fcourge him out of fight; Nay more, I vowed to flay him. The mifchief-making fprite. I gave him caullic chiding. Let fly a poifoned dart. Prello! the lad was hiding Safely within my heart! There all day long he chatters Of fome one's charm and grace; Till nothing really matters Except to fee your face, I would I had not chidden. Nor tried the fprite to kill ; For in my heart lafe hidden. He works his wayward will. Geraldine Mevrick. >4 SONG TO CUPID WARV clf Cupid, O dimpled, coy Cupid, Are you loll in the moonbeams, or hid in a role? Who law you, lo nimble, flip out of a thimble. And hang from the loops of a lily-maid's bows? Wee, fpry little midget, the world's in a fidget To fnare and then coddle you, mifchievous fpritc; Your pranks and mad gambols and primrole-path rambles 'Mid briers and brambles are all my delight. In ivy-clad bowers you neitle for hours. And lurk in the flowers that iwing in the breeze; There counting the kifles, the iweet ilolen blifles. Of Strephon and Phyllis in languorous eafe. We trifle and putter, our hearts in a flutter. In a tangled Ikein ipun by the toiletted fair. The weary hours whiling, and dull care beguiling — Lo! dimpled and fmiling, you 're loitering there I O wary elf Cupid, O cunning, coy Cupid, Are lovers all Ilupid, dear, rollicking boy ? While maidens are fighing and love-knots are tying, The fnap of your bow-flring bodes lorrow and joy! Harold Van Santvoord. 15 ^jw?»-^!^ *>* v*// BANISHED LOVE SHEPHERDS ! havc ye wandering feen A winged boy with blinded eyes r J drove him from me yeller e'en, Defpite his tears and pleading fighs. He bears a pretty bow, and keen Tipped arrows in his quiver lie. O Ihepherds, tell me, have vou icen This banifhed Love come wandering by ? Why fhines the fun, regret to mock, Why flaunt the flowers in hues fo gay. Why (kip with joy the Ihowv flock. When poor lolt Love is far away ? Unfeeling fliepherds, wherefore fmile And point toward my breaking heart ? What ! dole behind me all this while ? O Iweet ! we two no more fliall part. Virginia B. Harrison. -:2^, ^I^CK ,vT If TO CUPID FOR PARDON CUPID, pardon what is pall. And forgive our fins at lall ! Then we will be coy no more. But thy deity adore ; Troths at fifteen we will plight. And will tread a dance each night. In the fields, or by the fire, With the youths that have defire. Given ear-rings we will wear. Bracelets of our lovers' hair. Which thev on our arms fhall twill. With their names carved, on our wrill : All the money that we owe We in tokens wmII bellow ; And learn to write that, when 't is lent, Only our loves know what is meant. Oh, then pardon what is pall. And forgive our fins at lail. Beaumont and Fletcher, 17 M LOVE'S HUNTING ^^^^liijAST thou feen a boy lo clever, /!M^!^fJ ^ Bow in hand, and from his fhou Id ers -V Three tipped arrows in a quiver. With which, piercing all beholders. He goes up and down forever ? One dart, in the deep eye clinging. Blinds us ever to his aiming; One liraight at the white throat flinging, He denies his wrong's complaining; One he leaves in the heart Hinging. And the hill dart, tipt with fcorning. Quickly kindles a hot paflion Which confumes us with its burning : Eyeless, tongueless, in fuch fafhion. Blind and mute, we wander yearning. James Herbert Mors 2S LOVE GOES A-HAWKING ho! a ho! Love's horn doth blow. And he will out a-hawking go. His fhafts are light as beauty's fighs. And bright as midnight's brightest eyes. And round his Harry way The fwan-wing'd horfes of the fkies. With fummer's mufic in their manes. Curve their fair necks to zephyr's reins. And urge their graceful play. A ho! A ho! Love's horn doth blow. And he will out a-hawking go." The fparrows flutter round his wrist. The feathery thieves that Venus kist And taught their morning song. The linnets feek the airy list. And fwallows too, small pets of Spring, Beat back the gale with fwifter wing. And dart and wheel along. T9 A ho! A ho! Love's horn doth blow. And he will out a-hawking go. Now woe to every gnat that ikips To filch the fruit of ladies' lips. His felon blood is fhed; And woe to flies, whose airy fhips On beauty cast their anchoring bite. And bandit wasp, that naughty wight. Whose rting is flaughter-red. Thomas Lovell Beddoes. LOVE'S BLINDNESS HAVE heard of reafons manifold Why Love muil needs be blind. But this the bell of all I hold — His eyes are in his mind. What outward form and feature are He gueffeth but in part; But that within is good and fair He feeth with the heart. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ?o LOVE ASLEEP FOUND Love fleeping in a place of fhade. And as in fome fweet dream the fvveet lips frailed , Yea, feemed he as a lovely, fleeping child. Soft kiffes on his full, red lips I laid. And with red rofes did his treffes braid ; Then pure, white lilies on his bread I piled. And fettered him with woodbine fweet and wild, And fragrant armlets for his arms I made. But while I, leaning, yearned across his breaft. Upright he fprang, and from fwift hand, alert. Sent forth a fhaft that lodged within my heart. Ah, had I never played with Love at reft. He had not wakened, had not cast his dart. And I had lived who die now of this hurt. Philip Bourke Marston. 2E DAN CUPID'S TRICK rHE little boy called Love lay dead. And on his tiny tomb Some carven letters fweetly faid That for a day his heart had bled. And named the maid for whom. This maid, on coming to the mound. Felt a remorfeful pain. And killed his image, clafped it round. Grew pale, and fank upon the ground. And fhed an April rain. Then, like a prifon-burlling thief, Outleapt the bounding boy, Whofe Hay in Hades had been brief — For hardly had he died of grief Than he arofe for joy. ** What means this caper?" cried the maid, As in his arms fhe fank. And half delighted, half afraid. Began moft fweetly to upbraid This moil audacious prank. t?^'*^ ^5i^5^ " Fair maid, your fcorn of me," he faid, " Was all a make-believe. And put the thought into my head To play the trick of being dead. To lee how you would grieve." She dafhed with anger from her eyes Her all-too-tender tears, — And greatly to the lad's surprife. And heedlefs of his woeful cries. She boxed his little ears. ** Back to your tomb and there abide ! And quit it not ! " quoth fhe (And added, locking him infide), " I never loved you till you -'//Vv/ For juft your love of me." Theodore Tilton. v> LOVE'S ARROWS SAW young Love make trial of his bow. In May's green garden where he Oiot his dart. Nor recked if any nigh beheld, his art. But other eyes did mark him as I know; For my fweet lady fate anear his throw. And I with her, and joined heart to heart. So that we might not feel the bitter fmart Love leaveth there when time doth force to go. We heard Love's arrows falling in the grass. Or watched them quiver in the targe below; Yet few to us came nigh, nor might they pass Beyond our feet, which trembled when they came, Whofe hearts were not the quarry for his aim. That in Love's chafe fell ilricken long ago. Walter Crane, LOVE, THE GUEST ■^j DID not dream that Love would rtay, I deemed him but a paffing guell. Yet here he lingers many a day. I faid, ** Young Love will flee with May, And leave forlorn the hearth he hlell"; I did not dream that Love would Hay. My envious neighbor mocks me *' Nay, Love lies not long in any neil"; Yet here he lingers many a day. And though I did his will alway. And gave him even of my belt; I did not dream that Love would flay. I have no fkill to bid him Hay, Of tripping tongue or cunning jefl. Yet here he lingers many a dav. Beneath his ivory feet I lay Pale plumage of the ringdove's breart; I did not dream that Love would Hay. Will Love be flown? I ofttimes fay, Home turning for the noonday rell; Yet here he lingers many a day. 2s His gold curls gleam, his lips are gay. His eyes through tears fmile loveliefl; I did not dream that love would Hay. He fometimes fighs when far away The low red fun makes fair the weft. Yet here he lingers many a day. Thrice bleft of all men am I! yea. Although of all unworthieft; I did not dream that Love would ftay. Yet here he lingers many a day. Graham R. Tomson. CUPID ELFISH rogue, did Pfyche dream. When her lamp flie held above him. How the oil would downward llream. Wake the rogue and make her love him? Mary Chace Peckham. 26 FOR CUPID DEAD HEN Love is dead, what more but funeral rites — To lay his iweet corfe lovingly to rell. To cover him with rofe and eglantine. And all fair pofies that he loved the best ? What more, but kifles for his clole-fhut eyes — His cold. Hill lips that never more will fpeak — His hair, too bright for dull of death to dim — The flufh fcarce faded from his frozen cheek ? What more but tears that will not warm his brow. Although they burn the eyes from which they ftart ? — No bitter weeping or more bitter words Can roufe to one more throb that pulieless heart. So dead he is, who once was so alive! In fummer, when the ardent days were long. He was as warm as June, as gay and glad As any bird that fwelled its throat with fong. So dead! — yet all things were his minifters — All birds and blolfoms, and the joyous June! Would they had died, and kept Iweet Love alive ; Since he is gone the world is out of tune, Louise Chandler Moulton: 27 AT THE SIGN OF THE BLIND CUPID T" #"^HEN blufhing cheeks and downcall eyes f^f^ Set all the heart aflame, When love within a dimple lies And conllancy 's a name. Since every lafs is paffing fair, Cupid mull fly and fee ; And, lightly flitting here and there, A winged hoy is he. f When creeping years fl:eal on apace And youth and vigor go. When time with wrinkles marks the face And llrcws the hair with fnow. Ah, then no winged boy is he ; But ilrong-limbed and complete. With blinded eyes that need not fee. Since memory guides his teet. Walter Learned. 28 CUPID'S ARROW OUNG Cupid went ftorming to Vulcan one day, And belought him to look at his arrow. **'T is uleless!" he cried, **you mud mend it, I fay, 'T is n't fit to let fly at a fparrow. There 's fomething that 's wrong in the fliaft, or the dart. For it flutters quite falfe to my aim, 'T is an age fince it fairly went home to a heart, And the world really jells at my name. **I have ilraightened, I've bent, I've tried all, I declare, I've perfumed it with fweetest of sighs; 'T is feathered with ringlets my mother might wear, And the barb gleams with light from young eves ; But it falls without touching — I '11 break it, I vow. For there 's Hymen beginning to pout. He 's complaining his torch beam's fo dull and fo low, That Zephyr might pufi^it right out." Little Cupid went on with his pitiful tale. Till Vulcan the weapon reflored. ** There, take it, young fir, try it now. If it fail, I will ask neither fee nor reward!" The urchin (hot out, and rare havoc he made, The wounded and dead were untold. But no wonder the rogue had luch flaughtering trade. For the arrow was laden with gold. Eliza Cook. 30 CUPID PLAGUE THEE FOR THY TREASON ow I fee thy looks were feigned. Quickly loll, and quickly gained; Soft thy Ikin, like wool of wethers. Heart inconflant, light as feathers. Tongue untrufty, fubtle-fighted. Wanton will with change delighted. Siren, pleafant foe to reafon, Cupid plague thee for thy treafon! Of thine eye I made my mirror. From thy beauty came my error. All thy words I counted witty. All thy fighs I deemed pity. Thy falfe tears that me aggrieved, Firft of all my trufl deceived. Siren, pleafant foe to reafon, Cupid plague thee for thy treafon! Feigned acceptance when I afked, Lovely words with cunning mafked. Holy vows, but heart unholy; Wretched man, my trull was folly; Lily white, and pretty winking. Solemn vows but forry thinking. Siren, pleafant foe to reafon, Cupid plague thee for thy treafon ! 31 Now I fee, O feemly cruel. Others warm them at my fuel. Wit fhall guide me in this durance Since in love is no afl'urance: Change thy pafture, take thy pleafure. Beauty is a fading treafure. Siren, pleafant foe to reafon, Cupid plague thee for thy treafon! Prime youth lalls not, age will follow And make white thofe treffes yellow. Wrinkled face, for looks delightful. Shall acquaint the dame defpiteful. And when time fhall date thy glory. Then too late thou wult be forry. Siren, pleafant foe to reafon, Cupid plague thee for thy treafon! Thomas Lodge. 3^ YOUNG LOVE 'S A GALLANT BOY ^^!^^.^^^HEN Love came firll to earth, the Spring Spread rofe-beds to receive him. And back he vowed his flight he 'd wing To Heaven, if fl:ie fliould leave him. But Spring departing, faw his faith Pledged to the next new-comer — He revelled in the warmer breath And richer bowers of Summer. Then fportive Autumn claimed by rights An Archer for her lover. And even in Winter's dark cold nights A charm he could diicover. Her routs and balls, and firefide joy. For this time were his reafons — In Ihort, Young Love 's a gallant boy. That likes all times and feafons. Thomas Campbell. 33 3^^ 0( I VENUS' RUNAWAY jQEAUTiEs, have ye feen this toy^ J^ Called Love, a little boy, Almoll naked, wanton, blind ; Cruel now, and then as kind ? If he be amongfl ye, fay ? He is Venus' runaway. He hath marks about him plenty : You fhall know him among twenty „ All his body is a fire. And his breath a fiame entire. That, being fhot like lightning in. Wounds the heart, but not the fkin. At his fight the fun hath turned, Neptune in the waters burned ; Hell hath felt a greater heat ; Jove himfelf forfook his feat. From the center to the fky Are his trophies reared high. 34 Trull him not ; his words, though Iweet, Seldom with his heart do meet. All his practice is deceit ; Every gift it is a bait ; Not a kils but poifon bears ; And moll treafon in his tears. Idle minutes are his reign ; Then the ftraggler makes his gain By prefenting maids with toys. And would have ye think them joys • 'T is the ambition of the elt To have all childifh as himfelf. If by thefe ye pleafe to know him. Beauties, be not nice, but show him. Though ye had a will to hide him. Now, we hope, ye '11 not abide him ; Since you hear his faller play. And that he 's Venus' runaway. Ben Jonson. 35 [h BEWARE THE ROGUE ^)Peef in the fhadow of her hazel eyes. Waiting to capture men. Love lurking lies. Her glances are the arrows of his bow. Wherewith he lays unwary victims low ; And file, unufed to Cupid's artful wiles, Unconscious aids his purpofe by her fmiles. And knows not, as her fmiles and glances dart. What anguilh thefe may bring to many a heart. Ah ! hapless maiden, innocently gay. No prefage of the future breeds difmay ; She does not know how foon the treacherous guell Will make her heart the haven of unrell. Ungrateful Cupid! Soon from her he '11 fly. And feek a refuge in fome lover's eye. Then from that point of vantage aim a dart To pierce and agonize her maiden heart. Thomas Dunn English. ^6 THE FAIR THIEF S>g=v^;::;*,A f fq p f the urchin well could go She Hole the whiteness of the snow. And more that whiteness to adorn She ftole the blufhes of the morn; Stole all the fweets that either fheds On primrofe buds or violet beds. Still, to reveal her artful wiles. She ftole the Graces' lilken fmiles: She ftole Aurora's balmy breath. And pilfered orient pearl for teeth: The cherry, dipt in morning dew. Gave moifture to her lips and hue. Thefe were her infant fpoils, a ftore To which in time fhe added more: At twelve fhe ftole from Cyprus' queen Her air and love-commanding mien; Stole Juno's dignity, and ftole From Pallas fenfe to charm the foul. Apollo's wit was next her prey; Her next, the beam that lights the day. She fung: amazed the Sirens heard. And to aftert their voice appeared: She played: the Mufes from the hili Wondered who thus had ftol'n their fkill. 37 Great Jove approved her crimes and art; And t'other day fhe Hole my heart! If lovers, Cupid, are thy care. Exert thy vengeance on this Fair; To trial bring her ilolen charms. And let her prilon be my arms. Charles Wyndham. 3^ LOVE AND THE WITCHES ^^?^/^>^^T was a little, fearful maid, :> Whofe mother left her all alone; 4,'v^C Her door with iron bolt fhe Hayed, And 'gainll it rolled a lucky Hone — For many a night fhe 'd waked with fright when witches by the houfe had flown. To piping lute in Hill midnight. Who comes a-fmging at the door, — That fhoweth feams of golden light, — "Ah, open, darling, I implore"? She could not help knowing 't was Love, although they 'd never met before. She fwiftly fhot the iron bar. And rolled the lucky Hone away. And careful fet the door ajar — " Now enter in. Sir Love, I pray ; My mother knows it not, but I have watched for you this many a day." With fan and roar of gloomy wings They gave the door a windy fhove ; Thev perched on chairs and brooms and things; Like bats they beat around above — Poor little maid, flie 'd let the witches in with Love. Mary E. Wilkins. 39 LOVE AND DREAM uPiD, wandering one May-day, Met with loitering Death by chance; No aged carl as many say. But young as he, as fair and gay. As fond of boyifh fport or dance. ** Come, wrellle," and, so saying. Love, LooPning the quiver at his breail. Hung it upon the bough above. ** Thefe arrows," quoth he, ** when they rove. Make youth a flave at my beheil." Among the tender-blooming leaves Death made his quiver sure and faft, ** My arrows bring reil when age grieves," And down unwary Love he heaves; So frolicked they till Difcord pafied. She, wicked, hating merry play. Scattered their arrows on the green. And thus confufed, fome got ailray In either quiver. Since that day Youth dies and old age dotes, I ween. Anna Vernon Dorsey 4^ CUPID LAID BY HIS BkAND upiD laid by his brand, and fell afleep : • A maid of Dian's this advantage found. And his love-kindling fire did quickly ileep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground ; Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love A dateless lively heat, ilill to endure. And grew a feething bath, which yet men prove Againll ilrange maladies a fovereign cure. But at my millress' eye Love's brand new-fired. The boy for trial needs would touch my breall ; I, fick withal, the help of bath defired. And thither hied, a lad dirtempered gueil. But found no cure ; the bath for my help lies Where Cupid got new fire — my miilress' eyes. William Shakespeare. a: ^"jFFORE me carelefs lying, x3 Young Love his ware comes crying Full foon the elf untreafures His pack of pains and pleafures, — With roguifh eye He bids me buy From out his pack of treafures. His wallet 's iluffed with blifTes, With true-love-knots and kiffes. With rings and roiy fetters. And fugared vows and letters ; — He holds them out With boyifh flout. And bids me try the fetters. ^^^f^. 'ma ^ '■^.^sA ^y^ .j^ ^f -•<«*, J^ Nay, Child (I cry), I know them ; There 's little need to fhow them ! Too well for new believing I know their pad deceiving, — I am too old (I fay), and cold, To-day, for new believing ! But rtill the wanton prefTes, With honey-fweet carefTes, And ilill, to my undoing. He wins me, with his wooing. To buy his wares With all their cares. Their forrow and undoing ! Austin Dobson. m 43 //if %- ' LOVE'S REWARD ^^r^OR Love I labored all the day, fpr Through morning chill and midday heat. For furely with the evening gray, I thought. Love's guerdon fhall be fweet. At eventide, with weary limb, I brought my labors to the fpot Where Love had bid me come to him ; Thither I came^ but found him not. For he with idle folk had gone To dance the hours of night away; And I that toiled was left alone. Too weary now to dance or play. Francis W. Bourdillon. 44 THE LOVE THAT IS REQUITED WITH DISDAIN f) N fearch of things that fecret are my mated muse began. What it might be moleiled moil the head and mind of man ; The bending brow of prince's face, to wrath that doth attend. Or want of parents, wife, or child, or loss of faithful friend ; The roaring of the cannon fhot, that makes the piece to fhake. Or terror, fuch as mighty Jove from heaven above can make : All thefe in fine, may not compare, experience fo doth prove. Unto the torments, fharp and ftrange, of fuch as be in love. Love looks aloft, and laughs to fcorn all fuch as griefs annoy. The more extreme their paflions be, the greater is his joy , Thus Love, as victor of the field, triumphs above the reft. And joys to fee his fubjects lie with living death in breaft; But dire Difdain lets drive a fhaft, and galls this brag- ging fool. He plucks his plumes, unbends his bow, and fets him new to fchool; 45 Whereby this boy that bragged late, as conqueror over all. Now yields himfelf unto Difdain, his vaflal and his thrall. William Hunnis. CUPID RELIEVED s once young Cupid went aftray. The little god I found; I took his bow and (hafts away. And fall; his pinions bound. At Chloe's feet my fpoils I caft. My conqueft proud to fhew; She faw his godfhip fettered fad And fmiled to fee him fo. But ah! that fmile fuch frefh fupplies Of arms refiftless gave! I 'm forced again to yield my prize. And fall again his flave. SOAME JeNYNS. +6 LOVE BANISHED HEAVEN ovE banifhed heaven, in earth was held in fcorn. Wand' ring abroad in need and beggary; And wanting friends, though of a goddess born. Yet craved the alms of fuch as palled by : I, like a man devout and charitable. Clothed the naked, lodged this wand'ring gueft. With fighs and tears flill furnifhing his table. With what might make the miferable bleft; But this ungrateful, for my good defert. Enticed my thoughts againft me to confpire. Who gave confent to Ileal away my heart. And fet my breaft his lodging on a fire. Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold, No marvel then though charity grow cold. Michael Drayton. 47 THE BEGGING CUPID A piece of Sculpture /WATCHED as they ilood before it,- A girl with a face as fair As any among the marbles. So cold in their whitenefs there ; And a youth in whofe glance, entreaty Each lineament feemed to flir. She only had eyes for the fculpture ; He only had eyes for her. And poifing in critic-fafhion The delicate upturned head, ** Was ever fo fweet a beggar ? " With fudden appeal, fhe faid. **Jull look at the innocent archnefs. The fimple and childifh grace. Half mirthful and half pathetic. That dimples his pleading face. 48 ** Whoever could think that mifchief Was hidden in fuch a guile ? Or even that roly Ibrrows Lurk in thofe lambent eyes ? ** De?iy him F Perhaps ! though never With hardnefs or fcorn or blame ; For I think I fhould fob with pity. If that were the way he came." She turned as fhe fpoke : the glamour Of feeling had made her blind To the trick of the flealthy arrow The Cupid concealed behind : ** Ah, ha ! " fhe cried, while the color Rubied her neck of fnow — *' You plaufible, wheedling beggar ! I have nothing to give you, — Go ! " Margaret J. Preston LOVE! IF A GOD THOU ART ovE ! if a god thou art. Then evermore thou muft. Be merciful and julf ; If thou be jull, O wherefore doth thy dart Wound mine alone, and not my lady's heart ? If merciful, then why Am I to pain referved. Who have thee truly ferved. While fhe, that by thy power fits not afly. Laughs thee to fcorn, and lives at liberty? Then, if a god thou wilt accounted be. Heal me like her, or elfe wound her like me. Francis Davison, 50 LOVE'S GOING ovE lies a-fleeping ; maiden, foftly fing, Lell he fliould walcen ; pluck the falling rofe A-brulhing 'gainll his cheek, her glowing heart Ope'd to the fun's hot kifles — foolifh thing. To lift the tale oft told! — but fummer goes. And all the rofes' petals fall apart. Love lies a-fleeping ; let the curtains part So that the breeze may lightly to him fing A lullaby — the changeful breeze that goes A-whifpering through the grafs, where'er it rofe. Where'er it lifteth bound, a wilful thing. Low murmuring fweets from an inconftant heart. Love lies a-fleeping : prefs the pulfing heart That beats againft thy bofom : ftand apart And ftay thine eager breath, left anything Should mar his reft — the fongs that lovers fing. The tale the butterfly tells to the rofe. The low wind to the grafs, and onward goes. Love lies a-fleeping : ah, how fwiftly goes The fweet delufion he hath taught thy heart. Fair maiden, prefling to thy breaft the rofe, Whofe fun-kifl^ed petals fadly fall apart. With thy quick breath! Thy rhyme wouldft hear him fing Which yefterday feemed fuch a foolifli thing? 51 Love lies a-fleeping : nay, for fuch a thing Break not his {lumber. See how fweetly goes That fmile across his lips, that will not fing For very wilfulness. Love hath no heart ! If he should wake, thefe red-ripe lips would part In laughter low to fee this raviflied rofe. Love lies a-fleeping : fo the full-blown role Falls to the earth a dead unpitied thing; The graffes 'neath the breeze deep-fighing part And fway ; and as thy warm breath comes and goes In motion with the red tides of thy heart. The fong is huflied which Love was wont to fmg. Love lies a-fleeping: thus in dreams he goes; Strive not to waken him, but tell thy heart. **Love lies a-fleeping, and he may not fmg." Charles W. Coleman, Jun. 52 CUPID'S ARROWS HCEBE, wandering in a wood. Chanced to fpy Dan Cupid fleepirig; Long the curious maiden Hood Tiptoe, through the branches peeping. For the youngfler's lips fhe yearned. Till, the branches parting flyly. She to flake her third that burned Stooped and kifTed the rogue's mouth fhyly. Now the boy's eyes open wide. And upon the maid he gazes, Grafps an arrow at his fide. And his filver bow upraifes. Swift the maiden turns to flee; Swift the arrow follows after. Wounding in its flight a tree: Hark! how rings the maid's clear laughter. Cupid, with fleep-dazzled eyes. Stares a moment through the buflies Where the laughing maid ftill flies. Then adown the wood he ruflies. Now the fliaft o'ertakes the quarry. Now it cleaves poor Phoebe's heart — Maidens, ere you wake Love, tarry Firfl to filch his every dart. James B. Kenyon. 53 ^ ^■!i^ THE GROWTH OF LOVE ^H, Chloris ! that I now could fit ,^rl. As unconcerned, as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleafure nor no pain. When I the dawn ufed to admire. And praifed the coming day, I little thought the growing fire Mud take my reft away. Your charms in harmlefs childhood lay, Like metals in the mine : Age from no face took more away. Than youth concealed in thine. But as your charms infenfibly To their perfection preiled. Fond love as unperceived did fly. And in my bofom reil. 54 .\.C'^>A _ (^'•L" .'^^ k^^^' '■ .^j^^is. s^^^^ My paffion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart. Still, as his mother favored you. Threw a new flaming dart. Each gloried in their wanton part : To make a lover, he Employed the utmoft of his art — To make a beauty, flie. Though now I flowly bend to love. Uncertain of my fate. If your fair felf my chains approve, I fl:iall my freedom hate. Lovers, like dying men, may well At firll difordered be ; Since none alive can truly tell What fortune they muil fee. Sir Charles Sedley. 55 LOVE'S QUALITIES jp;s Love a boy — what means he then to llrike? ^ Or is he blind, — why will he be a guide? Is he a man, — why doth he hurt his like? Is he a god, — why doth he men deride? No one of thefe, but one compact of all: A wilful boy, a man Hill dealing blows. Of purpofe blind to lead men to their thrall: A god that rules unruly — God, he knows. Boy! pity me that am a child again; Blind, be no more my guide to make me llray: Man! ufe thy might to force away my pain; God! do me good and lead me to my way; And if thou beell a power to me unknown. Power of my life! let here thy grace be fhown. Byrd's Set Songs. 56 BALLADE OF THE ROSE ^gl^^i^ELL me, red role, what you were bid — You know her fecret; you fhe wore '^% Shy J nellling in her hair, half hid ^J^ By jealous golden curls a fcore. As waves half timid kiss the fhore. Then tremble were they bold or no ; I kiss you, blufhing token, for She loves me — rofe, you tell me fo. I foftly raife your fcented lid. Where, fleeping fince fome dawn of yore, A cryilal dewdrop lies amid The downy crimfon of your core. I am not verfed in Cupid's lore; But fo I think her blufhing glow Soft guards the love I fue her for. She loves me — rofe, you tell me fo. And when her hand, in dainty kid. Gave you to me, as n'er before It fluttered, tried itfelf to rid Of fetters that it never wore. Why trembled fhe ? My eyes would pour My love in hers — why did fhe fo ? Was it becaufe fhe hates me, or — She loves me — rofe, you tell me fo. 57 L ENVOY Rofe, come you not ambaflador From Cupid's court to let me know Love yields at lall ? Speak, I implore! She loves me — rofe, you tell me fo. H. C. Faulkner. AN AWAKENING OVE had forgotten and gone to fleep; Love had forgotten the prefent and pail. ^ I was fo glad when he ceafcd to weep; **Now he is quiet," I whifpered, '*at laft." What sent you here on that night of all nights. Breaking his slumber, dreamless and deep. Just as I whifpered below my breath, ** Love has forgotten and gone to flcep"? Anne Reeve Aldrich, 58 LOVE AND A COMPASS ^S ) ^S^ o the north of her mouth, eall and weft of her eyes. By the curls of her treffes half hidden. Two ears, of the tinieft, daintieft fize. Are kilTed by the breezes unbidden. And right to the north of each exquifite cheek Lie her eyes, of a brilliancy tender. Their color I know not, but in them I feek Some fign of approaching furrender. Due north of the dimple that hides in her chin, Two lips conceal mufic behind them; And when a fmile plays on them, Cupids begin To break from the bonds that confine them. Juft fouth of her chin ftands a full-rounded throat, Whofe whiteness than marble is whiter; Southeaft and southweft of it, fhoulders I note — No curves are more graceful, or lighter. In the fouth of her bofom, a bit to the weft. Is the greateft of all of her beauties: My loadftar 's the heart that is hid in her breaft; To obey it 's my fweeteft of duties. S. D. Smith, Jr. 59 ^^ LOVE IS DEAD ^^^jj )iNG out your bells ! let mourning fhovvs be fpread ! For Love is dead. All love is dead, infected With plague of deep difdain : Worth, as naught worth, rejected. And faith fair fcorn doth gain. From fo ungrateful fancy. From fuch a female phrenzy. From them that ufe men thus. Good Lord ! deliver us. Weep, neighbours ! weep : do you not hear it faid That Love is dead ? His death-bed peacock's folly. His winding-fheet is fhame. His will falfe feeming holy. His fole executor blame. From fo ungrateful fancy. From fuch a female phrenzy. From them that ufe men thus. Good Lord ! deliver us. 60 ¥^ Let dirge be fung, and trentals rightly read ! For Love is dead. Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth. My Mistrefs' marble heart ; Which epitaph containeth — ** Her eyes were once his dart." From fo ungrateful fancy. From fuch a female phrenzy. From them that ufe men thus, Good Lord ! deliver us. Alas ! I lie : rage hath this error bred : Love is not dead. Love is not dead, but fleepeth In her unmatched mind. Where (he his counfel keepeth Till due deferts fhe find. Therefore from fo vile fancy. To call fuch wit a phrenzy Who love can temper thus. Good Lord ! deliver us. Sir Philip Sidney 6i ^ WILY CUPID RUST not his wanton tears. Lest they beguile ye ; Trull not his childilh figh. He breatheth flily. Trull not his touch. His feeling may defile ye; Trull nothing that he doth. The wag is wily. If you suffer him to prate. You will rue it over-late. Beware of him, for he is witty: Quickly flrive the boy to bind. Fear him not, for he is blind. If he get loofe, he fhows no pity. Henry Chettle. 62 THE BURIAL OF LOVE Maiden's hearts are always f oft; Would that men'' s were truer! Song, 12Sl^^J^wo dark-eyed maids, at fhut of day, ^^^-^ Sat where a river rolled away. With calm, fad brows and raven hair. And one was pale and both were fair. Bring flowers, they fang, bring flowers unblown. Bring foreil-blooms of name unknown; Bring budding fprays from wood and wild. To llrew the bier of Love, the child. Clofe foftly, fondly, while ye weep. His eyes, that death may feem like fleep. And fold his hands in fign of reft. His waxen hands, acrofs his breaft. And make his grave where violets hide. Where ftar-flowers ftrew the rivulet's fide. And bluebirds in the mifty fpring Of cloudlefs Ikies and fummer fing. Place near him, as ye lay him low. His idle fhafts, his loofened bow. The filken fillet that around His waggifh eyes in fport he wound. 63 But we fhall mourn him long, and mils His ready fmile, his ready kifs. The patter of his little feet. Sweet frowns and Hammered phrafes fweet; And graver looks, ferene and high, A light of heaven in that young eye. All thefe Ihall haunt us till the heart Shall ache and ache — and tears will Hart. The bow, the band fhall fall to dull. The fhining arrows wafle with ruft. And all of Love that earth can claim Be but a memory and a name. Not thus his nobler part fhall dwell A prifoner in this narrow cell; But he whom now we hide from men In the dark ground, fhall live again: Shall break thefe clods, a form of light. With nobler mien and purer fight. And in the eternal glory Hand, Higheft and nearell God's right hand. William Cullen Bryant. 64 CUPID SWALLOWED I'OTHER day, as I was twining Roles, for a crown to dine in. What, of all things, midll the heap. Should I light on, fall afleep. But the little defperate elf. The tiny traitor — Love himfelf ! By the wings I pinch' d him up Like a bee, and in a cup Of my wine I plunged and fank him ; And what d'ye think I did? — I drank him! Faith! I thought him dead. Not he! There he lives with tenfold glee ; And now this moment, with his wings I feel him tickling my heart-llrings. Leigh Hunt. 65 THE FILLET ZovE has a fillet on his eyes ; / He fees not with the eyes of men ; Whom his fine iilues touch defpil'e The cenfures of indifferent men. There is in love an inward fight. That nor in wit nor wifdom Hes ; He walks in everlalling light, Defpite the fillet on his eyes. If I love you, and you love me, 'T is for fubflantial reafons, fweet- For fomething other than we fee. That fatiffies, though incomplete ; Or, if not fatiffies, is yet Not mutable, where fo much dies : Who love, as we, do not regret There is a fillet on Love's eyes ! Richard Henry Stoddard. ir^rm-t^^ TT^"1- tfi(\Tt^>tt'\rr'itt^miy^-'