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Show [ 134 ] Long braids of pearl her golden tre:lfes grac "d, 2 I 5 And the charrn'd CEsTus fparkled round her waifi. -Raifcd o'er the woof, by Beauty's hand inwrought, Breathes the foft Sigh, and glows the enamour' d Thought; Vows on light wings fucceed, and quiver' d 'Viles, Affuafive Accents, and feduetive Smiles. .2 20 -Slow rolls the Cyprian c;:ar in purple pride, And, fteer' d by LovE, afcends admiring Ide; Clirnbs the green flopes, the nodding woods pervades, Burns round the rocks, or gleams amid the fhades.- Glad ZEPHYR leads the van, and waves above The barbed darts, and blazing torch of Love ; Reverts his fn1iling face, and paufing flings Soft fhowers of rofes from aurelian wings. Delighted Fawns, in wreathes of Bowers array' d, 225 With tiptoe vVood-Boys beat the chequer' d glade ; 2 30 . Ati~Jleer'd by Love. I. 222. T he younger Love, or Cupid, the fon of Venus owes h1s ex dlen.::e and his attribu tes to much later times than th E . c1· · 'L . . e 10s, or IY111C ove,. mentioned m Canto ~·. fince ~h e former is no where mentioned by Homer, though fo .many apt opportunmes of mtroducing him occur in the works of that immortal ba1d. Bacon. r I 3s J · Alarmed Naiads, riling into air, Lift o'er their :lilver urns their leafy hair; Each to her oak the bailiful Dryads !brink, And azure eyes are feen at every chink. -LovE culls a flarning fhaft of broadefl: wing, And refts the fork upon the quivering firing; _ Points his arch eye aloft, with fingers {hong Draws to his curled ear the filken thong; Loud twangs the fl:eel, the golden arrow flies, Trails a long line of lufl:re through the 1kies ; 235 " 'Tis done!" he fhouts, '' the mighty Monarch feels!'' And with loud laughter fhakes the :lilver wheels; Bends o'er the car, and whirling, as it moves, His loofen' d bowfl:ring, drives the rifing doves. ---Pierced on his throne the fiarting Thundererturns, 245 Melts with foft :lighs, with kindling rapture burns ; Clafps her fair hand, and eyes in fond amaze 'rhe bright Intruder with enamour' d gaze. H And leaves my Goddefs, like a bloorning bride, " The fanes of Argos for the rocks of Ide? 250 ' .. |
