"I smile at Love and all his arts,"
The charming Cynthia cried;
"Take heed, for Love has piercing darts,"
A wounded swain replied.
"Once free and blessed, as you are now,
I trifled with his charms,
I pointed at his little bow,
And sported with his arms;
Till, urged too far, 'Revenge!' he cries;
A fatal shaft he drew;
It took its passage through your eyes,
And to my heart it flew."