ANACREON.
53
And while their fires intensely glow,
Was forging darts for Cupid's bow;
Sharp-pointed shafts of polish'd steel,
Which human hearts so keeny feel.
The gentle Venus, for her part,
In honey dipp'd each finish'd dart;
But cruel Cupid took them all,
And steep'd their barbed points in gall.
Returning from the battle rude,
The mighty Mars their business view'd;
And, leaning on his massy spear,[1]
"What use," he cried, with scornful sneer,
"These puny darts—these trifling toys—
Mere playthings—only fit for boys?"
"Hold!" Cupid cries, "here's one—try this,
You'll find it not so much amiss;
'Tis strongly made; and, for its size,
Its weight will cause you much surprise."
The god received it. Venus tried
To check her laugh, and turn'd aside;
But Mars, with sudden grief possess'd,[2]
Cried, groaning from his inmost breast,
"This little shaft gives wondrous pain;
Here—take it—take it back again."
"Nay, Mars, I give it with good will;
Pray keep the pretty plaything still."
Was forging darts for Cupid's bow;
Sharp-pointed shafts of polish'd steel,
Which human hearts so keeny feel.
The gentle Venus, for her part,
In honey dipp'd each finish'd dart;
But cruel Cupid took them all,
And steep'd their barbed points in gall.
Returning from the battle rude,
The mighty Mars their business view'd;
And, leaning on his massy spear,[1]
"What use," he cried, with scornful sneer,
"These puny darts—these trifling toys—
Mere playthings—only fit for boys?"
"Hold!" Cupid cries, "here's one—try this,
You'll find it not so much amiss;
'Tis strongly made; and, for its size,
Its weight will cause you much surprise."
The god received it. Venus tried
To check her laugh, and turn'd aside;
But Mars, with sudden grief possess'd,[2]
Cried, groaning from his inmost breast,
"This little shaft gives wondrous pain;
Here—take it—take it back again."
"Nay, Mars, I give it with good will;
Pray keep the pretty plaything still."
- ↑ The proportions of the spear and arrow are finely contrasted. The tiny weapon makes the deeper wound.
- ↑ This sentiment is extremely beautiful; intimating that one cannot even touch the darts of Cupid with safety. Moschus concludes his first idyllium with a similar thought:—
"Perhaps he'll say, 'Alas! no harm I know,
Here, take my darts, my arrows, and my bow.'
Ah! touch them not, fallacious is his aim,
His darts, his arrows, all are tipp'd with flame."
Fawkes.
Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost;
The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast."
Pope's Homer.
The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast."
Pope's Homer.