When blushing cheeks and downcast eyes Set all the heart aflame, When love within a dimple lies And constancy’s a name, Since every lass is passing fair, Cupid must fly and see; And, lightly flitting here and there, A wingèd boy is he. When creeping years steal on apace And youth and vigor go, When time with wrinkles marks the face And strews the hair with snow, Ah, then no wingèd boy is he; But strong-limbed and complete, With blinded eyes that need not see, Since memory guides his feet. WALTER LEARNED. [Illustration] CUPID’S ARROW Young Cupid went storming to Vulcan one day, And besought him to look at his arrow. “’Tis useless!” he cried, “you must mend it, I say, ’Tisn’t fit to let fly at a sparrow. There’s something that’s wrong in the shaft, or the dart, For it flutters quite false to my aim, ’Tis an age since it fairly went home to a heart, And the world really jests at my name. “I have straightened, I’ve bent, I’ve tried all, I declare, I’ve perfumed it with sweetest of sighs; ’Tis feathered with ringlets my mother might wear, And the barb gleams with light from young eyes; But it falls without touching—I’ll break it, I vow, For there’s Hymen beginning to pout, He’s complaining his torch beam’s so dull and so low, That Zephyr might puff it right out.” Little Cupid went on with his pitiful tale, Till Vulcan the weapon restored. “There, take it, young sir, try it now. If it fail, I will ask neither fee nor reward!” The urchin shot out, and rare havoc he made, The wounded and dead were untold, But no wonder the rogue had such slaughtering trade, For the arrow was laden with gold. ELIZA COOK. CUPID PLAGUE THEE FOR THY TREASON Now I see thy looks were feigned, Quickly lost, and quickly gained; Soft thy skin, like wool of wethers, Heart inconstant, light as feathers, Tongue untrusty, subtle-sighted, Wanton will with change delighted. Siren, pleasant foe to reason, Cupid plague thee for thy treason! Of thine eye I made my mirror, From thy beauty came my error, All thy words I counted witty, All thy sighs I deemed pity, Thy false tears that me aggrieved, First of all my trust deceived. Siren, pleasant foe to reason, Cupid plague thee for thy treason! Feigned acceptance when I asked, Lovely words with cunning masked, Holy vows, but heart unholy; Wretched man, my trust was folly; Lily white, and pretty winking, Solemn vows but sorry thinking. Siren, pleasant foe to reason, Cupid plague thee for thy treason!