Cupidon À La Chasse
From Paphian bow'rs, where murmuring fountains flow,
Young Love, all eager, to the chase departs.
Life's day is dawning: blithe with hope he starts,
While Childhood's dreams are not yet flown. But lo!
Where flow'rs were dreamed of, thorns and thistles grow!
Soft rosy smiles adorn his youthful face;
Before , is seen bright Hope and beaming Grace:
The keen darts lurk behind — steeped in sharp woe!
The fire that forged them, lit at woman's eyes;
The breath that gave the dead coals life, hot sighs;
Tempered in tears were they; their barbed tips
Envenomed in the dew of woman's lips;
The string that wings his shafts is woven of woman's hair:
Is he a god or fiend? He's BOTH ! My soul, beware!
Young Love, all eager, to the chase departs.
Life's day is dawning: blithe with hope he starts,
While Childhood's dreams are not yet flown. But lo!
Where flow'rs were dreamed of, thorns and thistles grow!
Soft rosy smiles adorn his youthful face;
Before , is seen bright Hope and beaming Grace:
The keen darts lurk behind — steeped in sharp woe!
The fire that forged them, lit at woman's eyes;
The breath that gave the dead coals life, hot sighs;
Tempered in tears were they; their barbed tips
Envenomed in the dew of woman's lips;
The string that wings his shafts is woven of woman's hair:
Is he a god or fiend? He's BOTH ! My soul, beware!
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