Classic Poem

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. Fr. III,v
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall (alas!) become of me?