Opens a spacious vent; through which, its flight
The damp air takes entrance, the Sun's warm light.
The rude walls ivy, creeping round about,
With a green suit of taps'try hangs throughout.
The goddess, which in heaven's third orb does shine,
Did to these shades her amorous thefts confine.
Here her delights secur'd: whose passions prove
Her more the servant, than the queen of love.
Here Mars to war oft taught she in love's field,
With other weapons than with spear and shield;
Whilst 'bout his sinewy neck her arms she wound,
And his rough limbs in those soft fetters bound.
Here once three naked goddesses ('tis said)
With censuring eyes the Phrygian swain survey'd ;
Whose judgement in that memorable strife
Gain'd him the beauteous Helen for his wife,
And gave to lovely Venus uncontroll'd
The prize of beauty, and the fruit of gold.
And here at last the winged son of Jove
And Maia, sported with the queen of love;
Who, in these shades, (if fame have truth reveal'd)
And her soft bosom long time lay conceal'd.
Mean while great Jove, wond'ring at his neglect,
(Who of some message did return expect)
Thus with himself discours'd 'bout his long stay:
"Sure he lies lurking for some hop'd-for prey,
Or his light wings (doubtless h' had else return'd)
He in the sea hath wet, or fire hath burn'd."
True, Jove; he lurking lay, but in the shade
Of Venus' arms; whilst on her lips he prey'd.
His pinions he had sing'd; but with love's torch,
Which not so much his plumes as heart did scorch;
Drench'd too he had, and wet his lighter wing,
Not in the sea's salt waves, but love's sweet spring.
And now seven times the Sun with quick'ning ray Had lighted in the east the lamp of day;
As oft the humid night had wrapp'd the skies
In her black mantle, wrought with stars like
eyes;
And yet no day goes by, no night e'er passes,
But sees these lovers link'd in close embraces.
But from those arms (where long a pris'nor held)
The loit'ring god, now to return compell❜d,
Unwillingly their dear embrace declin'd:
Yet left a growing pledge of love behind.
Nine times already had the Moon (constrain'd
By course) her orb into a crescent wan'd;
As oft her horns spread to a round) had run
With light that seem'd to emulate the Sun;
When a sweet boy (so genial stars dispos'd)
Fair Cytherea's pregnant womb disclos'd.
In their warm laps new born the graces laid him,
And with their softer arms a cradle made him,
Beauty first suckled him at her white breast
And her idea in his looks imprest.
About him did the little antics play,
Laughter, and Mirth, and smil'd his cries away.
No noise, but light breath'd from his lips of roses,
Such as the sky no thunder heard discloses,
Nor like to other children's, seem'd his eyes
Two springs of tears, but like two suns to rise:
Whence all presag'd that they in time should prove
No less the food than the sweet fire of love.
His beauty with his years did still increase;
Whilst his fair mother, longing to impress
The image of herself in his lov'd face,
Did every day add some celestial grace.
Now grown a youth, behold him, with the darts
Of his bright eyes, subduing female hearts;
The living picture of his parents; where
Their mixed beauties seem t' have equal share.
From father both and mother name he took,
From father both and mother his sweet look.
All the feign'd beauties of the world seem'd met
In him, as in their living counterfeit.
Where Nature (like Apelles) the best graces
(To add to his) cull'd from a thousand faces.
Upon his ivory front you might behold
His curled tresses flow like waves of gold,
And as enamoured on his lovely face,
That with their soft and twining arms embrace.
Then like loose wantons 'bout his neck to twist,
Glad that they might by its warm snow be kist.
View his fair front, and thou❜lt say that displays
A clear horizon deck'd with morning rays;
And as we sce beneath the dawning gleams
O' th' morn, the Sun shoot forth his brighter beams;
So here might you perceive alike to rise
In's front the morn, the Sun in his bright eyes,
His melting lips, speech's vermilion gate,
Soft seat of smiles, blushes so sweet dilate,
As seem at once to ravish the pleas'd sight,
And to a kiss the longing touch invite ;
Through which a fragrant Zephyrus transpires,
That fans and kindles both love's flagrant fires.
Nor can one tell (no grace in either missing)
Which best becomes them, speaking, smiling,
kissing,
Look on his tender cheek, and there thou❜lt spy
The rose as in a throne of Majesty,
'Mid'st a white guard of lilies, proudly grow;
Or blushing pinks set in a bank of snow.
His habit and his looks did both express
A kind of sweet becoming carelessness;
Whom all so much more beautiful esteem,
By how much he less beautiful would seem,
Whilst thus he manifests in every part,
What art there is in beauty void of art.
One day by chance 'twixt him and Cupid grew This emulous contest; which of them two
(Since he in beauty so surpast the other)
The god of love should be! he, or his brother?
When Venus, arbitress of the debate,
On a sublime tribunal thron'd in state,
(Fixing upon the lovely youth her eyes)
Thus spake "My dear, this doom 'twixt you de-
All further strife; a bow Cupid and thou
Shalt bear; he at his side, thou in thy brow.
The same your weapons; love's inflaming brand,
Thou in thy looks shall bear, he in his hand:
Both too shall shoot at and wound human hearts,
Thou with thine eyes (sweet boy) he with his darts.”
This lovely youth, with divine graces crown'd,
As yet three lustres scarce had seen go round,
When in his mind a resolution grew
Of bidding Phrygia, and the cave adieu.
Desire of knowledge, and the love of fame,
For travel his aspiring thoughts inflame.
How oft he wish'd his fathers wings! that so
He might each clime the Sun enlightens know:
And view whate'er the earth's vast bosom holds,
Or in its watry arms the sea infolds.
The Lycian realms he view'd; and there survey'd The hill, within whose dark and dreadful shade
The triple-shap'd Chimera once did dwell
That animated Ætna, living hell,
Which from three sooty jaws us'd to expire
A sulph'ry deluge, and belch floods of fire.
To Caria next his course he bends: where he
Through that well-peopled land doth wond'ring see
The numerous villages like shrubs to rise,
The cities tower like cedars to the skies;
Whose fertile borders with its winding waves
Tow'rd the cold north the fam'd Meander laves;
Which (like a traveller on some strange coast,
Having his first path, his directress, lost,
With devious steps, now in, now out doth wind,
Flies what he seeks, and meets what he declin'd,
Lost in the errour of ambiguous ways)
Itself imprisons in a watʼry maze.
At length he to that fatal place arriv'd,
Where envious love his sad revenge contriv'd.
So pleasant and delightful was the place,
That Heaven's great eye in its diurnal race
Yet ne'er beheld another like unto 't,
Of all 'twixt Ganges' head, and Calpe's foot.
There to a round which a fair prospect lends
Its flowry surface, a large plain extends;
A hundred little brooks its bosom trace,
And with their streams of quicksilver enchase ;
Which, with sweet vernal dews supply'd, still yield
Life to the flowers, and verdure to the field;
That may, with odorous jewels thus array'd,
A heaven of flowers, or field of stars, be said.
And what more pleasure adds, this pleasant ground
Tall trees, as with a leafy wall, surround,
And 'bout it seem like a green work to run,
As if to sconce it 'gainst the scorching Sun.
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