LI. Then Cupid, neither blind nor lame, With full-packed quiver smiling came; I feared the Paphian archer’s game, For well I knew That all his darts were tipt with flame, And torture too.
LII. “Ha! Ha!” quoth he, “my foolish boy, If you with Hymen mean to toy, I’ll help him to some new employ.”— From ’neath his wing He drew his bow with look of joy, And twanged the string.
LIII. Next Courage spoke: “Lo! youthful guest, I’ve come to fire thy timid breast; What Hope and Love have just addressed Must not prove vain; This night thy soul must be confessed To lovely Jane.
LIV. That maid for whom thou’st banged the head Of Sleep so oft upon thy bed, Until he groaning from thee fled, Is here alone: Then ask her boldly will she wed And be thine own.”
LV. Pardon this wild Homeric flight, And I will stoop from airy height; ’Tis truth I came to tell to-night, And therefore ought To paint my picture not too bright, As I’ve been taught.
LVI. Those shades divine had passed from view When, with no less celestial hue, My earthly goddess, warm and true Returned, and then I looked into her eyes of blue Again—again.
LVII. “It is,” said she, “a lovely night, And though my folk are not in sight, They soon will be, if all is right, For ’tis the hour.” Now was the time for Love to light On Fortune’s flower.
LVIII. Her fragrant breath my passion fanned, I burned to kiss—or press her hand, But feared to try—you understand,— Lest I should rue it, Till Love upon a sudden planned How I might do it.
LIX. I told her I had learned an art Consoling to a maiden’s heart: “You’ve got,” said I, “a little chart Which I can read, And from its dainty lines impart What you should heed.
LX. Can tell how soon you’ll be a bride, How many beaux you have denied, How many heirs you’ll raise to pride Their native land: All this, and more I can decide Within your hand.”