When Mars the Lemnian Darts survey'd,
Which Vulcan forg'd for Cupid's Bow;
What foolish toys are these, he said,
How brittle and how slight they show?
Fit Play-things for a Child! when strait
The little God did one prepare;
Here try, said he, if this one wants Weight;
And gave it to the God of War.
He took the Dart, its Weight he try'd,
While Venus smil'd to see him caught;
Here take it back again, he cry'd,
'Tis much more weighty than I thought.
The little Archer, wanton grown
To find the God of War shew Fear,
Keep it, said he, and henceforth own
My Dart wounds deeper than your Spear.