Cupid Lost
Late in the Forest I did Cupid See
Colde, wet, and crying he had lost his way,
And being blind was farther like to stray:
Which sight a kind compassion bred in me,
I kindly took, and dried him, while that he
Poor child complain'd he starved was with stay,
And pined for want of his accustom'd play,
For none in that wild place his host would be,
I glad was of his finding, thinking sure
This service should my freedom still procure,
And in my arms I took him then unharmed,
Carrying him safe unto a myrtle bower
But in the way he made me feel his power,
Burning my heart who had kindly warmed him.
Song
Love, a child, is ever crying;
Please him, and he straight is flying;
Give him, he the more is craving.
Never satisfied with having.
His desires have no measure;
Endless folly is his treasure;
What he promiseth he breaketh;
Trust not one word that he speaketh.
He vows nothing but false matter;
And to cozen you will flatter;
Let him gain the hand, he'll leave you,
And still glory to deceive you.
He will truimph in your wailing;
And yet cause be of your failing:
These his virtues are, and slighter
Are his gifts, his favours lighter.
Fathers are as firm in staying;
Wolves no fiercer in the preying;
As a child then, leave him crying;
Nor seek him so given to flying.
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