"A chase, a chase! my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
Aloft the winged sailors sprung,
And, swarming up the mast like bees,
The snow-white sails expanding flung,
Like broad magnolias to the breeze.
"Yo ho, yo ho, my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
The chase was o'er--the bark was caught,
The winged crew her freight explored;
And found 'twas just as Love had thought,
For all was contraband aboard.
"A prize, a prize, my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
Safe stowed in many a package there,
And labelled slyly o'er, as "Glass,"
Were lots of all the illegal ware,
Love's Custom-House forbids to pass.
"O'erhaul, o'erhaul, my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
False curls they found, of every hue,
With rosy blushes ready made;
And teeth of ivory, good as new,
For veterans in the smiling trade.
"Ho ho, ho ho, my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
Mock sighs, too,--kept in bags for use,
Like breezes bought of Lapland seers,--
Lay ready here to be let loose,
When wanted, in young spinsters' ears.
"Ha ha, ha ha, my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
False papers next on board were found,
Sham invoices of flames and darts,
Professedly for Paphos bound,
But meant for Hymen's golden marts.
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