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LOVE'S TRIUMPH, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: God cupid's power was ne'er so shown
Last Line: Castanna's heart untouch'd remains.
Subject(s): Love


I

GOD Cupid's power was ne'er so shown,
Since first the boy could draw a bow,
In all past ages, as this one,
This love-sick age we live in now:
Now he, and she, from high to low,
Or lovers are, or would seem so.

II

His arrows now are everywhere,
In every lip, and every eye,
From young, from old, from foul, from fair,
This little Archer lets them fly:
He is a traitor to Love's throne,
That has no love, or seems t' have none.

III

If she be young, and fair, we do
Think her the blessing of this life,
And, out of that opinion woo
Her for a mistress, or a wife,
And if they think us able men,
The pretty souls will love again.

IV

Or, if she be a wife, and that
A jealous ass corrupts her bed,
We build our pleasures on his fate,
And for her sake do crown his head,
So what he fears a truth doth prove,
And what's this but a trick of Love?

V

If she be left a widow, then
Her first amours have warm'd her blood,
She'll think us puppies or no men
Should not her wants be understood,
Pity then makes us lovers prove,
And pity is the child of Love.

VI

If she be wither'd, and yet itch
To do as once in time of old,
We love a little, for she's rich,
Though, but to scare away the cold,
She has (no doubt) the gift t'assuage,
Then never stand upon her age.

VII

Thus maid, wife, widow do all wound,
Though each one with a different eye,
And we by Love, to love are bound,
Either in heat or policy,
That is, we love, or say we do,
Women, we love ourselves; or you.

VIII

Cupid may now slacken his nerve,
Hang bow and quiver in some place
As useless grown, useless they serve,
For trophies of what once he was,
Love's grown a fashion of the mind,
And we shall henceforth love by kind.

IX

Lord! what a childish ape was this,
How vain improvident an elf,
To conquer all at once, when 'tis
Alas! a triumph o'er himself!
He has usurp'd his own fear'd throne,
Since now there's nothing to be done.

X

And yet there is, there is one prize
Lock'd in an adamantine breast;
Storm that then, Love, if thou be'st wise,
A conquest above all the rest,
Her heart, who binds all hearts in chains,
Castanna's heart untouch'd remains.





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