Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CUPID AND GANYMEDE, by MATTHEW PRIOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CUPID AND GANYMEDE, by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: In heaven, one holiday, you read
Last Line: And rise a swan, or fall a shower.
Subject(s): Cupid; Goddesses & Gods; Heaven; Love; Mythology; Troy; Eros; Paradise


IN Heaven, one holiday, you read
In wise Anacreon, Ganymede
Drew heedless Cupid in, to throw
A main, to pass an hour, or so;
The little Trojan, by the way,
By Hermes taught, played all the play.
The god unhappily engaged,
By nature rash, by play enraged,
Complained, and sighed, and cried, and fretted;
Lost every earthly thing he betted:
In ready-money, all the store
Picked up long since from Danae's shower;
A snuff-box, set with bleeding hearts,
Rubies, all pierced with diamond darts;
His nine-pins made of myrtle-wood
(The tree in Ida's forest stood);
His bowl pure gold, the very same
Which Paris gave the Cyprian dame;
Two table-books in shagreen covers;
Filled with good verse from real lovers;
Merchandise rare! a billet-doux,
Its matter passionate, yet true;
Heaps of hair rings, and ciphered seals;
Rich trifles; serious bagatelles.
What sad disorders play begets!
Desperate and mad, at length he sets
Those darts, whose points make gods adore
His might, and deprecate his power;
Those darts, whence all our joy and pain
Arise: those darts -- Come, seven's the main,
Cries Ganymede; the usual trick;
Seven, slur a six; eleven, a nick.
Ill news go fast: 'twas quickly known,
That simple Cupid was undone.
Swifter than lightning Venus flew:
Too late she found the thing too true.
Guess how the goddess greets her son:
Come hither, sirrah! no, begone;
And, hark ye, is it so indeed?
A comrade you for Ganymede!
An imp as wicked, for his age,
As any earthly lady's page;
A scandal and a scourge to Troy;
A prince's son! a blackguard boy;
A sharper, that with box and dice
Draws in young deities to vice.
All Heaven is by the ears together,
Since first that little rogue came hither;
Juno herself has had no peace:
And truly I've been favoured less:
For Jove, as Fame reports (but Fame
Says things not fit for me to name),
Has acted ill for such a god,
And taken ways extremely odd.
And thou, unhappy child, she said
(Her anger by her grief allayed),
Unhappy child, who thus hast lost
All the estate we e'er could boast;
Whither, O whither wilt thou run,
Thy name despised, thy weakness known?
Nor shall thy shrine on earth be crowned;
Nor shall thy power in Heaven be owned;
When thou, nor man, nor god canst wound.
Obedient Cupid kneeling cried,
Cease, dearest mother, cease to chide:
Gany's a cheat, and I'm a bubble:
Yet why this great excess of trouble?
The dice were false: the darts are gone:
Yet how are you or I undone?
The loss of these I can supply
With keener shafts from Cloe's eye:
Fear not we e'er can be disgraced,
While that bright magazine shall last.
Your crowded altars still shall smoke;
And man your friendly aid invoke:
Jove shall again revere your power,
And rise a swan, or fall a shower.





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