“Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid;
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip,--the rose
Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how)
With these, the crystal on his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All these did my campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes,
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! hath she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?”
John Lilly
