CUPID and PLUTUS

When Celia, Love's eternal Foe, To rich old Gomez first was marry'd; And angry Cupid came to know, His Shafts had err'd, his Bow mis-carry'd;

He sigh'd, he wept, he hung his Head, On the cold Ground, full sad, he laid him; When Plutus, there by Fortune led, In this desponding Plight survey'd him.

And sure, he cry'd, you'll own at last Your boasted Pow'r by mine exceeded: Say, wretched Boy, now all is past, How little She your Efforts heeded.

If with Success you wou'd assail, Gild, Youngster, doubly gild your Arrows: Little the feather'd Shafts avail, Tho' wing'd from Mamma's Doves and Sparrows.

What tho' each Reed, each Arrow grew, Where Venus herself; depend on't, Twere more for Use, for Beauty too, A Di'mond sparkled at the End on't.

Peace, Plutus, Peace!—the Boy reply'd; Were not my Arts by your's infested, I cou'd each other Pow'r deride, And rule this Circle, unmolested.

See yonder Pair! no worldly views In Chloe's gen'rous Breast resided: Love bade her the spruce Valet chuse, And she by potent Love was guided.

For this! she quits her golden Dreams, In her gilt Coach no more she ranges; And her rich Crimson, bright with Gems, For Cheeks impearl'd with Tears, she Changes.

Tho' sordid Celia own'd your Pow'r, Think not so monstrous my disgrace is: You gain'd this Nymph—that very Hour, I gain'd a Score in diff'rent Places.