Vpon the same Subject, in imitation of Anacreon's Manner

AS young Sylvander did one day
Wantonly with Celia play;
The Boy, call'd Love, a third to make,
Did his Bow and Quiver take.
His Bow with golden Wire he strings,
And with Feathers from his Wings;
Imping a never failing Dart,
Strikes at once, with wondrous art,
Celia's and Sylvander's heart.
The Dart in both their Breasts remain'd,
Down they fell together Chain'd.
Love clap'd his purple Wings for joy,
'Tis by Styx, like me a Boy!
Joyn'd to a Nymph Young, Lovely, Kind;
Look how by my Dart they're joyn'd!
The golden bearded Dart, to wrest
Out from either Lovers breast,
Both Gods and Men shall strive in vain;
They shall ne'r be two again.
For see how riveted they lye!
How they Bleed, and how they Dye!
As my Psyche does and I.
I, tho a God, with her expire,
And reviving Death desire.
Again I dye, by death more blest,
Than by Heaven before possess'd.
I would not be immortal I,
But for ever thus to dye.