Thus To The Muses Spoke The Cyprian Dame, Adorn My Altars, And Revere My Name. My Son Shall Else Assume His Potent Darts; Twang Goes The Bow; My Girls Have At Your Hearts. The Muses Answer'D Venus, We Deride The Vagrant'S Malice And His Mother'S Pride: Send Him To Nymphs Who Sleep On Ida'S Shade, To The Loose Dance And Wanton Masquerade: Our Thoughts Are Settled, And Intent Our Look On The Instructive Verse And Moral Book. On Female Idleness His Power Relies, But When He Finds Us Studying Hard He Flies.