Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/168

158 Had women been the makers of our laws, (And why they were not, I can see no cause) The men should slave at cards from morn to night; And female pleasures be to read and write.

I.

LUTTERING spread thy purple pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart; I, a slave in thy dominions; Nature must give way to art.

II.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming All beneath yon flowery rocks.

III.

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth: Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gor'd with unrelenting tooth.

IV.

Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; Fair Discretion, string the lyre; Sooth my ever-waking slumbers: Bright Apollo, lend thy choir. V. Gloomy