Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE YOUNG FOWLER THAT MISTOOK HIS GAME; AN IDYLLIUM, by BION



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THE YOUNG FOWLER THAT MISTOOK HIS GAME; AN IDYLLIUM, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: A brisk young archer that had scarce his trade
Last Line: Sit on your shoulders, and in triumph ride.'
Subject(s): Archers & Archery


A BRISK young archer that had scarce his trade,
In search of game, alone his progress made
To a near wood, and as he there did rove,
Spied in a box-tree perch'd, the God of Love:
For joy, did he his lucky stars adore,
Ne'er having seen so large a bird before;
Then in due order all his lime-twigs set,
Prepar'd his arrows, and display'd his net;
Yet would the crafty bird no aim allow,
But flew from tree to tree, and bough to bough;
At which his strange success, for grief he cried,
In anger throwing bow and toils aside:
And to the man that taught him, ran in haste,
To whom he gave account of all that past,
Making him leave his plough, to come and see,
And show'd him Cupid sitting in the tree.
The good man, when he saw it, shook his head;
'Leave off, fond boy, leave off,' he smiling said;
'Haste from this dang'rous fowl, that from you flies,
And follow other game, let me advise.
For when to riper age you shall attain,
This bird that shuns you now, you'll find again;
Then use your skill, 'twill all your art abide;
Sit on your shoulders, and in triumph ride.'





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