His mother dear Cupid offended late,
Because that Mars, grown slacker in her love,
With pricking shot he did not throughly move
To keep the pace of their first loving state.
The boy refused, for fear of Mars’s hate,
Who threatened stripes, if he his wrath did prove:
But she in chafe him from her lap did shove,
Brake bow, brake shafts, while Cupid weeping sate:
Till that his grandame Nature, pitying it,
Of Stella’s brows made him two better bows,
And in her eyes of arrows infinite.
O how for joy he leaps, O how he crows,
And straight therewith, like wags new got to play,
Falls to shrewd turns, and I was in his way.
I suggest you click here to open the sonnet in a separate window, so that you can refer directly to it as you read on through the analysis.
Reading note: though “Cupid” in line 1 is a backwards foot (i.e., a trochee rather than an iamb) no matter how you slice it, the whole line scans better (and surely makes more sense?) if “dear” modifies “mother” rather than “Cupid”; so there is a slight lift after the phrase “His mother dear.”
A rather simple and playful sonnet, though built around an episode of family dysfunction and child abuse among the gods. Apparently Mars’s love for Venus has flagged, and this is described in fairly explicit sexual terms: since he has “grown slacker” and cannot “keep the pace” of their earlier love, Venus wants Cupid to “move” him with a “pricking” shot, which apart from the pun would be a redundancy. But the child Cupid does not want to challenge or test (“prove”) the wrath of Mars, so he refuses his mother’s request, whereupon her wrath (“chafe”) proves just as bad, and Cupid ends up crying on the floor, his bow and arrows broken by Venus in her pique; and with this sorry scene of domestic violence, the octave comes to an end.
Now a doting grandmother, Nature (maternal grandmother, as Venus was born of the sea), comes to the child’s rescue, proving once again that Nature’s creations can outstrip those of the gods. Specifically, Stella’s eyebrows are better bows, and her darting eyes better arrows, for the stimulating purposes to which Cupid customarily puts his favorite toys. Newly armed in this way, he becomes specifically dangerous, not to Mars, but to Mars’s follower, the soldier-poet, in the final three lines of the sonnet. A “wag new got” is a mischievous baby boy (exactly what Cupid is in iconography), and “shrewd turns” are actions that are impish or vicious. Cupid gets a bit reckless with his new toys—i.e., Stella’s features—and the bottom line for the speaker is “I was in his way.” Need I say more?
Next time (weekend of March 8): Sonnet 18
Jonathan Smith is Professor of English at Hanover College, Hanover, Indiana.