Love is a Parthian

Written in a Lady's Albnni, under a pictare of Love engaged

in whetting a dart.
When Love is advancing

To capture the heart,
W^ith soft wiles entrancing,

He shows not a dart ;

His bow slung behind him

Unstrung, seems to show
The heart will not find him —

The sweet one— a foe.

In his eye hope is swimming.

Bliss laughs on his lip,
The bowl that he's brimming,

'Tis transport to sip ;

And, while he remains there,

Mid sunshine or shower.
The urchin maintains there

The bloom of his bower.

But ^ard 'gainst his flying,

When whetting his dart.
And playfully trying

His wings for a start ;

For Love wounds, no never.

The heart where he lies,
A Parthian ever.

He shoots when he flies.