Classic Poem

Love 's goddess, in a myrtle grove,
Said, " Cupid, bend thy bow with speed,
" Nor let the shaft at random rove,
" For Jenny's haughty heart must bleed. "
The smiling boy, with divine art,
From Paphos shot an arrow keen,
Which flew unerring to the heart,
And kill'd the pride of bonny Jean.

No more the nymph, with haughty air,
Refuses Willie's kind address;
Her yielding blushes shew no care,
But too much fondness to suppress.
No more the youth is sullen now,
But looks the gayest on the green,
Whilst every day he spies some new
Surprising charms in bonny Jean.

A thousand transports crowd his breast,
He moves as light as fleeting wind,
His former sorrows seem a jest,
Now when his Jeanie is turn'd kind.
Riches he looks on with disdain,
The glorious fields of war look mean,
The cheerful hound and horn give pain,
If absent from his bonny Jean.

The day he spends in am'rous gaze,
Which, e'en in summer, shorten'd seems;
When sunk in down, with glad amaze,
He wonders at her in his dreams.
All charms disclos'd, she looks more bright
Than Troy's fair prize, the Spartan queen:
With breaking day he lifts his sight,
And pants to be with bonny Jean.