“My weary limbs, then let me try
“My mois'ened bow.”—Despite my fear
The hearth I lit, then drew me near
My guest, and chafed his fingers cold.
“Why fear?” I thought. “Let me be bold
“No Polyphemus he; what harm
“In such a child?—Then I'll be calm!”
The playful boy drew out a dart,
Shook his fair locks, and to my heart
His shaft he launch'd.—“Love is my name,”