CUPIDO [CRUCI AFFIXUS].
In those bless'd fields of everlasting air --Where to a myrtle grove the souls repair Of deceas'd lovers--the sad, thoughtful ghosts Of injur'd ladies meet, where each accosts The other with a sigh, whose very breath Would break a heart, and--kind souls--love in death. A thick wood clouds their walks, where day scarce peeps, And on each hand cypress and poppy sleeps; The drowsy rivers slumber, and springs there Blab not, but softly melt into a tear; A sickly dull air fans them, which can have, When most in force, scarce breath to build a wave. On either bank through the still shades appear A scene of pensive flow'rs, whose bosoms wear Drops of a lover's blood, the emblem'd truths Of deep despair, and love-slain kings and youths. The Hyacinth, and self-enamour'd boy Narcissus flourish there, with Venus' joy, The spruce Adonis, and that prince whose flow'r Hath sorrow languag'd on him to this hour; All sad with love they hang their heads, and grieve As if their passions in each leaf did live; And here--alas!--these soft-soul'd ladies stray, And--O! too late!--treason in love betray. Her blasted birth sad Semele repeats, And with her tears would quench the thund'rer's heats, Then shakes her bosom, as if fir'd again, And fears another lightning's flaming train. The lovely Procris here bleeds, sighs, and swoons, Then wakes, and kisses him that gave her wounds. Sad Hero holds a torch forth, and doth light Her lost Leander through the waves and night, Her boatman desp'rate Sappho still admires, And nothing but the sea can quench her fires. Distracted Phaedra with a restless eye Her disdain'd letters reads, then casts them by. Rare, faithful Thisbe--sequest'red from these-- A silent, unseen sorrow doth best please; For her love's sake and last good-night poor she Walks in the shadow of a mulberry. Near her young Canace with Dido sits, A lovely couple, but of desp'rate wits; Both di'd alike, both pierc'd their tender breasts, This with her father's sword, that with her guest's. Within the thickest textures of the grove Diana in her silver beams doth rove; Her crown of stars the pitchy air invades, And with a faint light gilds the silent shades, Whilst her sad thoughts, fix'd on her sleepy lover, To Latmos hill and his retirements move her. A thousand more through the wide, darksome wood Feast on their cares, the maudlin lover's food; For grief and absence do but edge desire, And death is fuel to a lover's fire. To see these trophies of his wanton bow, Cupid comes in, and all in triumph now-- Rash unadvised boy!--disperseth round The sleepy mists; his wings and quiver wound With noise the quiet air. This sudden stir Betrays his godship, and as we from far A clouded, sickly moon observe, so they Through the false mists his eclips'd torch betray. A hot pursuit they make, and, though with care And a slow wing, he softly stems the air, Yet they--as subtle now as he--surround His silenc'd course, and with the thick night bound Surprise the wag. As in a dream we strive To voice our thoughts, and vainly would revive Our entranc'd tongues, but cannot speech enlarge, 'Till the soul wakes and reassumes her charge; So, joyous of their prize, they flock about And vainly swell with an imagin'd shout. Far in these shades and melancholy coasts A myrtle grows, well known to all the ghosts, Whose stretch'd top--like a great man rais'd by Fate-- Looks big, and scorns his neighbour's low estate; His leafy arms into a green cloud twist, And on each branch doth sit a lazy mist, A fatal tree, and luckless to the gods, Where for disdain in life--Love's worst of odds-- The queen of shades, fair Proserpine, did rack The sad Adonis: hither now they pack This little god, where, first disarm'd, they bind His skittish wings, then both his hands behind His back they tie, and thus secur'd at last, The peevish wanton to the tree make fast. Here at adventure, without judge or jury, He is condemn'd, while with united fury They all assail him. As a thief at bar Left to the law, and mercy of his star, Hath bills heap'd on him, and is question'd there By all the men that have been robb'd that year; So now whatever Fate or their own will Scor'd up in life, Cupid must pay the bill. Their servant's falsehood, jealousy, disdain, And all the plagues that abus'd maids can feign, Are laid on him, and then to heighten spleen, Their own deaths crown the sum. Press'd thus between His fair accusers, 'tis at last decreed He by those weapons, that they died, should bleed. One grasps an airy sword, a second holds Illusive fire, and in vain wanton folds Belies a flame; others, less kind, appear To let him blood, and from the purple tear Create a rose. But Sappho all this while Harvests the air, and from a thicken'd pile Of clouds like Leucas top spreads underneath A sea of mists; the peaceful billows breathe Without all noise, yet so exactly move They seem to chide, but distant from above Reach not the ear, and--thus prepar'd--at once She doth o'erwhelm him with the airy sconce. Amidst these tumults, and as fierce as they, Venus steps in, and without thought or stay Invades her son; her old disgrace is cast Into the bill, when Mars and she made fast In their embraces were expos'd to all The scene of gods, stark naked in their fall. Nor serves a verbal penance, but with haste From her fair brow--O happy flow'rs so plac'd!-- She tears a rosy garland, and with this Whips the untoward boy; they gently kiss His snowy skin, but she with angry haste Doubles her strength, until bedew'd at last With a thin bloody sweat, their innate red, --As if griev'd with the act--grew pale and dead. This laid their spleen; and now--kind souls--no more They'll punish him; the torture that he bore Seems greater than his crime; with joint consent Fate is made guilty, and he innocent. As in a dream with dangers we contest, And fictious pains seem to afflict our rest, So, frighted only in these shades of night, Cupid--got loose--stole to the upper light, Where ever since--for malice unto these-- The spiteful ape doth either sex displease. But O! that had these ladies been so wise To keep his arms, and give him but his eyes!