CUPID and GANYMEDE. Matthew Prior Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T075639 Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Poems on Several Occasions [English poems only]. London Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakespear's-Head over against Katharine-Street in the Strand, and JOHN BARBER upon Lambeth-Hill. MDCCXVIII. 1718 pp. 75-77. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

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CUPID and GANYMEDE . In Heav'n , one Holy-day , You read In wise Anacreon , Ganymede Drew heedless Cupid in , to throw A Main , to pass an Hour , or so . The little Trojan , by the way , By Hermes taught , play'd All the Play . The God unhappily engag'd , By Nature rash , by Play enrag'd , Complain'd , and sigh'd , and cry'd , and fretted ; Lost ev'ry earthly thing He betted : In ready Mony , all the Store Pick'd up long since from Danae's Show'r ; A Snush-Box , set with bleeding Hearts , Rubies , all pierc'd with Diamond Darts ; His Nine-pins , made of Myrtle Wood ; ( The Tree in Ida's Forest stood ) His Bowl pure Gold , the very same Which Paris gave the Cyprian Dame ; Two Table-Books in Shagreen Covers ; Fill'd with good Verse from real Lovers ; Merchandise rare ! A Billet-doux , It's Matter passionate , yet true : Heaps of Hair Rings , and cypher'd Seals ; Rich Trifles ; serious Bagatelles . What sad Disorders Play begets ! Desp'rate and mad , at length He sets Those Darts , whose Points make Gods adore His Might , and deprecate his Pow'r : Those Darts , whence all our Joy and Pain Arise : those Darts — come , Seven's the Main , Cries Ganymede : The usual Trick : Seven , slur a Six ; Eleven : A Nick . Ill News goes fast : 'Twas quickly known , That simple Cupid was undone . Swifter than Lightning Venus flew : Too late She found the thing too true . Guess how the Goddess greets her Son : Come hither , Sirrah ; no , begon ; And , hark Ye , is it so indeed ? A Comrade You for Ganymede ? An Imp as wicked , for his Age , As any earthly Lady's Page ; A Scandal and a Scourge to Troy : A Prince's Son ? A Black-guard Boy : A Sharper , that with Box and Dice Draws in young Deities to Vice . All Heav'n is by the Ears together , Since first That little Rogue came hither : Juno her self has had no Peace : And truly I've been favour'd less : For Jove , as Fame reports , ( but Fame Says things not fit for Me to name ) Has acted ill for such a God , And taken Ways extreamly odd . And Thou , unhappy Child , She said ( Her Anger by her Grief allay'd ) Unhappy Child , who thus hast lost All the Estate We e'er could boast ; Whither , O whither wilt Thou run , Thy Name despis'd , thy Weakness known ? Nor shall thy Shrine on Earth be crown'd : Nor shall thy Pow'r in Heav'n be own'd ; When Thou , nor Man , nor God can'st wound . Obedient Cupid kneeling cry'd , Cease , dearest Mother , cease to chide : Gany's a Cheat , and I'm a Bubble : Yet why this great Excess of Trouble ? The Dice were false : the Darts are gone : Yet how are You , or I undone ? The Loss of These I can supply With keener Shafts from Cloe's Eye : Fear not , We e'er can be disgrac'd , While That bright Magazine shall last : Your crowded Altars still shall smoke ; And Man your Friendly Aid invoke : Jove shall again revere your Pow'r , And rise a Swan , or fall a Show'r .