Invocation to Cupid

Deck'd with rays of purple light, Hither, Cupid, wing thy flight; Through the pure unclouded sky Let thy shafts unnumber'd fly.

Bid the warblers of the grove Bow before the shrine of Love; And with thy resistless dart Pierce, O pierce each youthful heart.

Hark, how round thy hallow'd shrine, Sweetly chaunt the tuneful Nine; O'er the green enamel'd plains Pouring all their magic strains.

Phoebus now with fervid rays Lights thy altar's holy blaze; And, touching soft his magic lyre, Joins the sweet Aonian choir.