Cupid and Campaspe
Cupid and my Campaspe played
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 of 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! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas, become of me!
John Lyly.