Mercury and Cupid

IN sullen humour one day Jove
Sent Hermes down to Ida's grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His store of darts, his total quiver ;
That Hermes should the weapons break,
Or throw 'em into Lethe's lake.
Hermes, you know, must do his errand :
He found his man, produc'd his warrant ;
Cupid, your darts — this very hour —
There's no contending against power.
How sullen Jupiter, just now,
I think I said ; and you'll allow,
That Cupid was as bad as he :
Hear but the youngster's repartee.
Come, kinsman (said the little god),
Put off your wings, lay by your rod ;
Retire with me to yonder bower,
And rest yourself for half an hour :
'Tis far indeed from hence to Heaven :
But you fly fast ; and 'tis but seven.
We'll take one cooling cup of nectar ;
And drink to this celestial Hector —
He break my darts, or hurt my power !
He, Leda's swan, and Danae's shower !
Go, bid him his wife's tongue restrain,
And mind his thunder, and his rain. —
My darts ! O certainly I'll give 'em :
From Cloe's eyes he shall receive 'em.
There's one, the best in all my quiver,
Twang ! through his very heart and liver.
He then shall pine, and sigh, and rave :
Good lord ! what bustle shall we have !
Neptune must straight be sent to sea,
And Flora summon'd twice a day :
One must find shells, and t'other flowers,
For cooling grots, and fragrant bowers,
That Cloe may be serv'd in state :
The Hours must at her toilet wait :
Whilst all the reasoning fools below
Wonder their watches go too slow,
Lybs must fly south, and Eurus east,
For jewels for her hair and breast :
No matter though their cruel haste
Sink cities, and lay forests waste.
No matter though this fleet be lost ;
Or that lie wind-bound on the coast.
What whispering in my mother's ear !
What care, that Juno should not hear !
What work among you scholar gods !
Phoebus must write him am'rous odes :
And thou, poor cousin, must compose
His letters in submissive prose ;
Whilst haughty Cloe, to sustain
The honour of my mystic reign,
Shall all his gifts and vows disdain ;
And laugh at your old bully's pain.
Dear coz., said Hermes in a fright,
For Heaven's sake, keep your darts ! good night.