The American Songster, Song

I DREAMT I saw a piteous sight, Young Cupid weeping lay, Until his pretty stars of light, Had wept themselves away.

Methought I ask'd him why he wept, More pity led me on: He deeply sigh'd and then replied, Alas! I am undone.

As I beneath yon myrtle lay, Close by Diana's springs, Amintor stole my bow away, And pinion'd both my wings.

Alas! said I where's then thy bow, Wherewith he wounded me; Thou art a god, and such a blow, Could come from none but thee.

But If thou wilt revenged be On that ambitious swain, I'll set thy wings at liberty, And thou shalt fly again:

And all the service on my part That I require of thee, Is that you'd wound Amintor's heart, And make him die for me.

The silken fetters I untied, And the gay wings display'd, He mounting gently fann'd and cry'd Adieu, fond foolish maid!

At that I blush'd and angry grew, I should the god believe; But waking found my dream too true, Alas! I was a slave.