POEMS.
129
ON A PICTURE OF "LOVE'S MISLAID QUIVER."
Cupid! o'er thy brow why steals
A shadow of bewilderment?
Why thus droops thy weapon dread,
As if it mourned its power spent?
A shadow of bewilderment?
Why thus droops thy weapon dread,
As if it mourned its power spent?
Is it pity that thou feel'st
For some poor heart bow'd down by thee,
Whose fairest hopes thou hast but raised,
Blighted and crushed at last to be?
For some poor heart bow'd down by thee,
Whose fairest hopes thou hast but raised,
Blighted and crushed at last to be?
Perhaps, though wanton be thy work,
Some gush of feeling may return;
Compassion's light, so long put out,
May be re-lit, yet strong to burn.
Some gush of feeling may return;
Compassion's light, so long put out,
May be re-lit, yet strong to burn.
Oh! be it so! Young Love, we crave
Thy clemency—thy justice now!
Give back the peace thy spells have crushed,
To the once light, now aching brow!
Thy clemency—thy justice now!
Give back the peace thy spells have crushed,
To the once light, now aching brow!
