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.