MERCURY and CUPID. 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. 86-88. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

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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 .