He said, and soaring, swiftly wing'd his Flight:
Nor stopt but on Parnassus' airy Height,
Two diff'rent Shafts he from his Quiver draws;
One to repel Desire, and one to cause.
One Shaft is pointed with refulgent Gold:
To bribe the Love, and make the Lover bold:
One blunt, and tipt with Lead, whose base allay
Provokes Disdain, and drives Desire away.
The blunted Bolt against the Nymph he drest:
But with the sharp transfixt Apollo's Breast.
Th' enamour'd Deity pursues the Chace;
The scornful Damsel shuns his loath'd Embrace;
In hunting Beasts of Prey, her Youth employs;
And Phœbe rivals in her rural Joys.
With naked Neck she goes, and Shoulders bare;
And with a Fillet binds her flowing Hair.
By many Suitors sought, she mocks their pains,
And still her vow'd Virginity maintains.
Impatient of a Yoke, the name of Bride
She shuns, and hates the Joys, she never try'd.
On Wilds, and Woods she fixes her Desire:
Nor knows what Youth, and kindly Love inspire.
Her Father chides her oft; Thou ow'st, says he,
A Husband to thy self, a Son to me.
She, like a Crime, abhors the Nuptial Bed:
She glows with Blushes, and she hangs her Head.
Then casting round his Neck her tender Arms,
Sooths him with Blandishments, and filial Charms:
Give me, my Lord, she said, to live, and die
A spotless Maid, without the Marriage Tye.
'Tis but a small Request; I beg no more
Than what Diana's Father gave before.
The good old Sire was soften'd to consent;
But said her Wish wou'd prove her Punishment:
For so much Youth, and so much Beauty join'd,
Oppos'd the State, which her desires design'd.
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