Classic Poem

O Pyrrhus! what art thou about,
The lioness's cubs to move,
And take her very fav'rite out?
Full soon the plund'rer, none-so-stout,
Th'attack will disapprove.
When she shall pass along the train
Of rakes, that for their mistress stir,
Who shall have best of the campaign,
Shalt thou thy friend to good regain,
Or leave to vice and her?
Mean time, while you the darts acute
Present — she wets her dreadful tooth,
Lo! he degrades beneath his foot
That palm, the price of this dispute,
The long-contested youth,
With his loose locks perfum'd and curl'd,
For sportive zephyrs there to play,
Like Nireus in his form begirl'd,
Or who, from Ida and the world,
To heav'n was snatch'd away.