Читать книгу The Golden Treasury - Unknown - Страница 54

     Cupid and my Campaspe play'd

     At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:

     He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,

     His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;

     Loses them too; then down he throws

     The coral of his lip, the rose

     Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);

     With these, the crystal of his brow,

     And then the dimple on his chin;

     All these did my Campaspe win:

     At last he set her both his eyes—

     She won, and Cupid blind did rise.

        O Love! has she done this to thee?

        What shall, alas! become of me?