To Cupid. Song

Thou that hast shot so many hearts
With thy enchanted darts!
(Young Archer!) if thou hast one more
In all thy store,
Send it, oh send it to my Love,
Wing'd with the feathers of thy Mothers Dove!

Or head it with the same desire,
Thou didst my shaft enspire!
Or take thine arrow back from me!
'Tis crueltie
Sometimes not to be cruel: Oh!
Or smite both hearts, or els unbend thy bow!