CUPID AND JUPITER.

A FABLE.

WHEN Jove had seized his father's throne,
And the whole world became his own;
Though for his ease he chose to share
Such an extensive empire's care,
Conferring on one young brother
The charge of hell; and to another
Giving the regions of the deep,
In watchful governance to keep:
Those brothers were his vassals still,
And of their kingdoms held at will
Were forced to give a due account
To him, their great " Lord Paramount."
On earth the name of Jove was feared
By all, but most by priests revered;
Who, at the splendid shrines of Ammon,
Could serve at once both " God and Mammon !"
In heaven no less his power was felt,

For there the gods in homage knelt,
And Juno's self, his sister-bride,-
That great epitome of pride,-

With tongue alone could keep the field :
In actions ever forced to yield.

But whilst all else below, above,

Thus bowed to Jove's imperial sway,
The Fates, and Cupid, god of love,
Alike compell'd him to obey;

Although they differ'd in the mode

By which that wondrous power they show'd.
The Fates, those hags so full of spite,
In contradiction took delight,—

As all old ugly women do,

Alas! some pretty young ones too,
And oft, when Jove had form'd a plan
To help or hurt the race of man,
Fast as his puppets came in play,
Those human puppets of a day,
Old Atropos would cut the thread,
And lo! his actors all were dead!

Twas by the hated Fates compell'd,
That in his dread embrace he held
The hapless victim of his vow,
Slain by the lightnings of his brow!

And when upon the plains of Troy,
In death-pangs writhed his fav'rite boy,
The Fates their stern" Vetamus" gave,
And cheek'd a father's wish to save!

In fact, they never sought to please
Great Jupiter by their decrees;
Hence" the inexorable three"

Were objects of his enmity,

Whilst Cupid, who had scarce less power,-
But wisely kept that power conceal'd,-

Rose in his favour ev'ry hour,

And by conceding, made him yield.

Twill not, I hope, seem labour vain
To tell how Love contrived to gain
That influence with the god of thunder,
Which may to some appear a wonder.
Know, then, that in the Olympian Court,
In earliest youth a petted child,

Our little hero used to sport;
And many was the frolic wild
He play'd unpunished still: for none
Amongst the gods would harm the son
Of her whose beauty all admired,
And to whose favours most aspired;
And as to goddesses, the boy

Had with him such a winning way,
That it was to them the greatest joy
With the spoil'd pet to romp and play.
And you may guess what deeds were done
By Cytherea's amorous son,

Since when he chose to do amiss,

His pleasing penance was a kiss!

In heaven, of course, time swiftly flies, Though none there mark with anxious eyes The dread revolvings of his glass As signs for youth and bloom to pass, And little Cupid, whilst, with pace Unnoticed by a breathless race, The years in quick succession flew, In wit, but not in stature, grew.

Still did his golden ringlets grace,
A snowy brow, when not a trace
Of age, or even care was seen;
Still childish was his outward mien;
But one, who watched him narrowly,
Minerva, thought she could descry
A certain archness in his eyes,
Which early made her deem it wise,
When he approached her with his dart,
To raise her Ægis o'er her heart.
And well she judged, for Cupid's arm-
Though rounded still-was nerved for harm;
And those, who on the seeming child,
Unconscious of their danger, smiled,
By sudden wounds were taught to know
His fatal prowess with the bow.

Complaints at length were brought to Jove
Of the provoking tricks of Love;
And he was order'd into court

To answer for his cruel sport.

In chains, and with submissive air,
He came on the appointed day,

Though little did he really care
What his accusers there might say;
For whilst no other god he spared,
The urchin never yet had dared
On Jove himself to play his tricks,
Or openly his breast transfix;
And since tis usual for the great,
In trifles, or affairs of weight,
Their own experience to prefer
To all that others may aver-

He knew that in his judge's breast
A sure defender he possess'd.

But twas not by the judge alone
That godlike mercy then was shown.
Stung by some feelings of remorse,

The goddesses had changed their mind.
Their sex is prone to such a course,
And never long remain unkind!
It now appear'd ingratitude
The little prisoner to have sued;
For each to him had owed a lover;
And having thought the matter over,

With "pros" and "cons" considered duly,
They found that Love, howe'er unruly,
With all the pains that it might bring,
Was still a very pleasant thing,
And though so loud in their complaint
Of Cupid, whilst he yet was free,
When they beheld him in constraint,
And saw his mock humility,

Their tender hearts at once relented;
They swore by Styx that they repented
Of having hastily preferr'd

Against him one accusing word,
And named as plaintiffs, one and all
Refused to answer to the call.

From this most singular denial
Of half the accusing side to plead,

Twas thought at first that Cupid's trial Would not be suffer'd to proceed. But Jove declared that "he was bound, If any person could be found, Who of the prisoner stood in fear, That person's evidence to hear."

Ne'er in a crowded county court
Did "C. C." case afford such sport,
As did the evidence then given
Before the justice-court of Heaven;
And Jove, who in the great conclave
Was forced to wear an aspect grave,
Himself could scarce his mirth command,
When Vulcan raised his iron hand,
And pointing to his smoke-stain'd breast,
Endeavour'd vainly there to show
Some wound destructive of his rest,
Made, as he swore, by Cupid's bow..
Meantime, as well as "learned brother,"
Paid by his impudence to bother
The minds at once of judge and jury,
Or put a witness in a fury,

Did Love, though never sent to learn
In inns of Court the tricks of laws,
Perceive the favourable turn

That ridicule would give his cause;
And when at length desired to speak
In his defence, he did not seek
By any formal refutation
To answer to each accusation;
But singling Vulcan from the rest,
As a fit subject for a jest,

"Tis strange enough," the rogue began,
"That any god so gravely can
Assert he fears hostility

From such a little child as I.

But stranger still, that one, whose calling,
Since the first moment of his falling
On Lemnos' heights, has been to frame
More deadly arms for deeds of fame,—
Should know so little of his trade,
As not to see this bow was made
Of a weak myrtle branch that grew
In my dear mother's fav'rite isle,-
And that these darts" which pierced him through'
Are simple rushes all the while.

As well might a Numidian bear,
Gifted with sudden speech declare,
Before his mighty lion-king,

That a slight feather from the wing
Of some poor dove, with purple tide
Had tinged his rough and tawny hide,
As Vulcan venture to complain
To thee, oh! Jupiter, of pain
Inflicted by a harmless toy,
The mimic arrow of a boy!
To thy great wisdom I appeal;
Behold my weapons, void of steel,
And say it such their way could win

Through yonder hardy blacksmith's skin!"
The gods around in chorus laugh'd,
Whilst Vulcan, feeling now the shaft
Of ridicule, which harm'd him more
Than any Love had launch'd before,
Wish'd, as he clench'd his hammer fast
Within his fist, and downward cast
His looks confused upon the cloud,

Such was the pavement of the hall,
That he could vanish through the crowd
To Lemnos with a second fall.

And Cupid-who contrived to hide
His exultation and his pride-
To Jove proceeded to deliver,

With bended knee, his bow and quiver;
Which latter, thanks to timely warning,

Had been prepared for his defence,

And filled with blunted reeds that mornin
As the best proofs of innocence.
The judge assumed a serious air,
Examined every dart with care,

And then, with most contemptuous look,
The bow at the accusers shook,

"Are these the mighty arms," he cried,
"Of whose effects the gods complain?

Seek you my judgment to deride
By cause so frivolous and vain ?
Quick, Hermes! hasten to remove
The chains that bind poor injured Love.
And ye, who thus have shown your spite
By such false-swearing, leave my sight;
Lest I, to punish your offence,
Should chance to prove the difference

Betwixt the arrows from his bow
And bolts that laid the Titans low.
Cupid, henceforth on me attend;
Twill be my duty to defend

A slander'd innocent from woes
Plan'd by the rancour of his foes."
"The cause

was o'er, and from that hour

Began the date of Cupid's power.

He slyly with his patron took
His hints for conduct from a look.
Whene'er he saw his humour gay,

Before heaven's king "the child" would play ;

But when more serious seem'd his mood,
With look subdued "the courtier" stood."
And having gain'd the ear of Jove,
By turning all his thoughts to love,
Aud merely seeming to suggest
Where he might sate his passion best,
He caused him o'er the world to range
For pleasure, with Protean change.

Love does but whisper, and, behold!
The Thunderer is a shower of gold!
Assuming now Diana's face,

He clasps her, nymph, in his embrace!
To Læda's arms, with fearful cries,
On downy pinions now he flies
From his own favorite bird!

And now

The head, to which all others bow,

Where horns have taken the place of crown,

Is to the earth bent meekly down,

That the Phoenician maid may deck

With garlands his immortal neck!

When Jove himself thus gave the rein,
Shall we, pretending to restrain
An ardent courser, such as Love,
The victims to his mettle prove?
No. As the wild untutor'd steed,

Whose course twere vain attempt to stay,

Is used by dauntless man to speed
His progress o'er the pathless way;
So, through the wilderness of life,
Through storms of sorrow and of strife,
Let Love, e'en though he scorn control,
Convey us gaily to the goal.

NOTE.-Some critics of the day, who doubtless consider themselves acute phrenologists, deny that the artists of antiquity possessed any great "ideality," and ascribe the chief merit of their sculpture and painting to a superior developement of the organs of "imitation," and of "form." One would think that the professors of such an opinion were passing judgment on a Chinese tea-chest instead of those inimitable productions on which modern sculptors gaze with feelings of mingled admiration and despair, and of one of which it has been said, in language worthy of the subject, that

"Animate with deity alone,

In deathless glory breathes the living stone !"*

If, as it is generally allowed, there be indeed a something more than earthly in the expression of the "Apollo Belvidere," no slight exertion of imagination must have been acquired for its conception. "Imitation" could have had little to do with

Milman's Newdigate prize poem.