Classic Poem

For many unsuccessful years
At Cynthia's feet I lay;
And often bath'd them with my tears,
Despair'd, but durst not pray.

No prostrate wretch, before the shrine
Of any saint above,
E'er thought his goddess more divine,
Or paid more awful love.

Still the disdainful dame look'd down
With an insulting pride;
Receiv'd my passion with a frown,
Or toss'd her head aside.

When Cupid whisper'd in my ear,
"Use more prevailing charms,
Fond, whining, modest fool, draw near,
And clasp her in your arms.

"With eager kisses tempt the maid,
From Cynthia's feet depart;
The lips he warmly must invade
Who would possess the heart."

With that I shook off all my fears,
My better fortune tried;
And Cynthia gave what she for years
Had foolishly denied.