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III.

I faint; I die :' the goddess cried :

(0 cruel! couldst thou find none other

* To wreck thy spleen on? Parricide !

· Like Nero, thou hast sain thy mother.'

IV.

Poor Cupid, sobbing, scarce could speak;

Indeed, Mamma, I did not know ye: Alas ! how easy my mistake! "I took you, for your likeness, Chloe.'

CUPID

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CUPID's

PASTIME,

FROM BISHOP PERCY'S RELIQUES

OF ANTIENT POETRY.

I.

T chanc'd, of late, a shepherd swain,

IT

That went to seek his straying sheep, Within a thicket, on a plain,

Espied a dainty nymph asleep,

* II.

Her golden hair o'erspread her face ;

Her careless arms abroad were cast ;

Her quiver had her pillow's place ;
Her breast lay bare to every

blast.

III.

The shepherd stood, and gaz'd his fill;

Nought durft he do; nought durst he fay;

Whilft

1

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Whilst chance, or else, perhaps, his will,

Did guide the god of love that way.

IV.

The crafty boy thus sees her sleep,

Whom, if she wak’d, he durft not see:

Behind her closely seeks to creep,

Before her nap should ended be.

V.

There come, he steals her shafts away,

And puts his own into their place:

Nor dares he any longer stay,

But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace.

VI.

Scarce was he gone, but she awakes,

And spies the shepherd ftanding by:

Her bended bow in hafte she takes,

And at the simple fwain, lets fly.

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