WHOE'ER the man may be who first, for flight, Gave wings to Cupid, and his portrait drew; His brush to give the semblance only knew Of butterflies and swallows swift, and light. But had he known of Love's fierce flame the spite, His dreadful bow, the darts his victims rue, His rapid course, he there had brought to view A giant god of superhuman might. Ah! prithee, painters, other colours lay, His cruel empire truly to portray, His dart's unerring point so swift and keen. You make him all too soft; but could he sink As heavy in your breast as mine, I think Your portrait altogether changed has been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RESURRECTION by JONATHAN HENDERSON BROOKS JOAN OF ARC IN RHEIMS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS HORATIUS [AT THE BRIDGE], FR. LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY THE CENTAURS by JAMES STEPHENS THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON |