CHLOE's CONQUEST

'Twas by a purling Stream, beneath a Shade, Young CHLOE, CUPID, and ALEXIS play'd: LOVE's Goddess, with her Doves, sat looking on; And, smiling, nodded to her wanton Son: Her wanton Son his keenest Arrow drew; Swift, to the Swain, the pointed Weapon flew. Inflexible to Love, the Shepherd stood, Repell'd the Shaft, and mock'd the baffled God; Till CHLOE rais'd her Eyes with killing Art, And shot him with a more pernicious Dart: Yours is the Victory, ALEXIS cries; Not CUPID's Shaft has kill'd, but CHLOE's Eyes.