Cupid Spitted on a Dart

Miss Porden

Cupid spitted on a dart
At his altar roasts my heart
It burns with ardent love for thee
It weeps at thy inconstancy
But through the tears it sheds would make
A fishpond swell into a lake
So great the heat it still is wasting
And all those tears but serve for basting

Take pity on it ere the flame
Has to a cinder dried its frame
If from they eyes one drop but flow
T’will cruel maid relieve my woe
One tear of thine can soon assuage
This dreadful fires’ consuming rage
Then let thy pity match thy form divine
And rescue thy half-roasted Valentine.