The Gods Wishing To Instruct A Son Of Jupiter.

[1]     For Monseigneur The Duke Du Maine.      To Jupiter was born a son,[2]      Who, conscious of his origin,      A godlike spirit had within.      To love, such age is little prone;      Yet this celestial boy      Made love his chief employ,      And was beloved wherever known.      In him both love and reason      Sprang up before their season.      With charming smiles and manners winning,      Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning,      As an Olympian became:      Whatever lights the tender flame, -      A heart to take and render bliss, -      Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his.      Jove's son, he should of course inherit      A higher and a nobler spirit      Than sons of other deities.      It seem'd as if by Memory's aid -      As if a previous life had made      Experiment and hid it -      He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade,      So perfectly he did it.      Still Jupiter would educate      In manner fitting to his state.      The gods, obedient to his call,      Assemble in their council-hall;      When thus the sire: 'Companionless and sole,      Thus far the boundless universe I roll;      But numerous other offices there are,      Of which I give to younger gods the care.      I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child,      Whose countless altars are already piled.      To merit such regard from all below,      All things the young immortal ought to know.'      No sooner had the Thund'rer ended,      Than each his godlike plan commended;      Nor did the boy too little yearn      His lesson infinite to learn.      Said fiery Mars, 'I take the part      To make him master of the art      Whereby so many heroes high      Have won the honours of the sky.'      'To teach him music be my care,'      Apollo said, the wise and fair;      'And mine,' that mighty god replied,      In the Nemaean lion's hide,      'To teach him to subdue      The vices, an envenom'd crew,      Like Hydras springing ever new.      The foe of weakening luxury,      The boy divine will learn from me      Those rugged paths, so little trod,      That lead to glory man and god.'      Said Cupid, when it came his turn,      'All things from me the boy may learn.'      Well spoke the god of love.      What feat of Mars, or Hercules,      Or bright Apollo, lies above      Wit, wing'd by a desire to please?