Hue and Cry for Love

My Love has gone astray,
This very morn he left me.
The wild lad flew away,
Of sleep bereft me.

His back two wings uprears,
His hand a quiver peerless,
Sly smiles he sends, soft tears;
Glib, swift, and fearless.

You ask whose son is he?
I cannot guess it even.
None owns him, neither sea
Nor earth nor heaven.

All hate him: even now
Beware the way he's going.
He's snaring hearts, I trow,
For men's undoing.

Hist! there in archer's guise
I see him taking cover.
He hides in Zeno's eyes:
My search is over.
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Author of original: 
Meleager
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