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CUPID AND PSYCHE.
Love,—oh do not name his name!
On this earth he only came
To deceive and to destroy,—
Lasting sorrow, fleeting joy!
Sunny light each pinion flings,
But, alas, they still are wings!
Rainbow feathers edge his shaft,
They are stained with crime and craft.
Fair but false Divinity,
Does the bosom treasure thee!
Better would its folly fare
Were the scorpion harboured there.
Does the cheek with colours burn,
Shed from passion's purple urn!
Woe for the deceiving light,
It will herald darkest night.
Go thou, ask the happiest lover,
Far or near thou canst discover;
