CHLOE's CONQUEST.

'TWAS by a purling Stream, beneath a Shade,
 Young CHLOE, CUPID, and ALEXIS play'd:
 LOVE's Goddess, with her Doves, sat looking on;
 And, smiling, nodded to her wanton Son:
 Her wanton Son his keenest Arrow drew;
 Swift, to the Swain, the pointed Weapon flew. 
Inflexible to Love, the Shepherd stood,
 Repell'd the Shaft, and mock'd the baffled God;
 Till CHLOE rais'd her Eyes with killing Art,
 And shot him with a more pernicious Dart:
 Yours is the Victory, ALEXIS cries;
 Not CUPID's Shaft has kill'd, but CHLOE's Eyes.