II.
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saw three Cupids (so I dream’d),Who made three kites, on which were drawn,In letters that like roses gleam’d,‘Plato,’ ‘Anacreon,’ and ‘Vaughan.’The boy who held by Plato triedHis airy venture first; all sail,It heav’nward rush’d till scarce descried,Then pitch’d and dropp’d for want of tail.Anacreon’s Love, with shouts of mirthThat pride of spirit thus should fall,To his kite link’d a lump of earth,And, lo, it would not soar at all.Last, my disciple freighted hisWith a long streamer made of flowers,The children of the sod, and thisRose in the sun, and flew for hours.
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