CUPID'S BOWER.
Am I in fairy-land? or tell me, pray,
To what love-lighted bower I've found my way?
Sure luckless wight was never more beguiled
In woodland maze, or closely tangled wild.
To what love-lighted bower I've found my way?
Sure luckless wight was never more beguiled
In woodland maze, or closely tangled wild.
And is this Cupid's realm? if so, good-by!
Cupid, and Cupid's votaries, I fly;
No offering to his altar do I bring,
No bleeding heart—or hymeneal ring.
Cupid, and Cupid's votaries, I fly;
No offering to his altar do I bring,
No bleeding heart—or hymeneal ring.
What though he proudly marshals his array
Of conquered hearts, still bleeding in his way,
Of sighs, of kisses sweet, of glances sly,
Playing around some darkly beauteous eye?
Of conquered hearts, still bleeding in his way,
Of sighs, of kisses sweet, of glances sly,
Playing around some darkly beauteous eye?
What though the rose of beauty, opening wide,
Blooms but for him, and fans his lordly pride?
What though his garden boasts the fairest flower
That ever dew-drop kissed, or pearly shower?
Blooms but for him, and fans his lordly pride?
What though his garden boasts the fairest flower
That ever dew-drop kissed, or pearly shower?
Still, Cupid, I'm no votary to thee;
Thy torch of light will never blaze for me;
I ask no glance of thine, I ask no sigh;
I brave thy fury, and thus boldly fly!
Thy torch of light will never blaze for me;
I ask no glance of thine, I ask no sigh;
I brave thy fury, and thus boldly fly!
