MERCURY and CUPID.

In sullen Humour one Day Jove
 Sent Hermes down to Ida's Grove,
 Commanding Cupid to deliver
 His Store of Darts, his total Quiver;
 That Hermes shou'd the Weapons break,
 Or throw 'em into Lethe's Lake. 

Hermes, You know, must do his Errand:
 He found his Man, produc'd his Warrant:
 Cupid, your Darts — this very Hour —
 There's no contending against Power. 

How sullen Jupiter, just now
 I think I said: and You'll allow,
 That Cupid was as bad as He:
 Hear but the Youngster's Repartée. 

Come Kinsman (said the little God)
 Put off your Wings; lay by your Rod;
 Retire with Me to yonder Bower;
 And rest your self for half an Hour:
 'Tis far indeed from hence to Heav'n:
 And You fly fast: and 'tis but Seven. 
We'll take one cooling Cup of Nectar;
 And drink to this Celestial Hector —

He break my Darts, or hurt my Pow'r! 
He, Leda's Swan, and Danae's Show'r! 
Go, bid him his Wife's Tongue restrain;
 And mind his Thunder, and his Rain. —
 My Darts? O certainly I'll give 'em:
 From Cloe's Eyes He shall receive 'em. 
There's One, the Best in all my Quiver,
 Twang! thro' his very Heart and Liver. 
He then shall Pine, and Sigh, and Rave:
 Good Lord! what Bustle shall We have! 
Neptune must straight be sent to Sea;
 And Flora summon'd twice a-day:
 One must find Shells, and t'other Flow'rs,
 For cooling Grotts, and fragrant Bow'rs,
 That Cloe may be serv'd in State:
 The Hours must at Her Toilet wait:
 Whilst all the reasoning Fools below,
 Wonder their Watches go too slow. 
Lybs must fly South, and Eurus East,
 For Jewels for Her Hair and Breast:
 No Matter tho' their cruel Haste
 Sink Cities, and lay Forrests waste. 
No Matter tho' This Fleet be lost;
 Or That lie wind-bound on the Coast. 
What whis'pring in my Mother's Ear! 
What Care, that Juno shou'd not hear! 
What Work among You Scholar Gods! 
Phoebus must write Him am'rous Odes:
 And Thou, poor Cousin, must compose
 His Letters in submissive Prose:
 Whilst haughty Cloe, to sustain
 The Honour of My mystic Reign,
 Shall all his Gifts and Vows disdain;
 And laugh at your Old Bully's Pain. 

Dear Couz, said Hermes in a Fright,
 For Heav'n sake keep Your Darts: Good Night.