CUPID ONCE UPON A BED

Cupid once upon a bed Of roses laid his weary head; Luckless urchin not to see Within the leaves a slumbering bee! The bee awaked—with anger wild The bee awaked and stung the child. Loud and piteous are his cries; To Venus quick he runs, he flies! “O mother! I am wounded through— I die with pain—in sooth I do! Stung by some little angry thing, Some serpent on a tiny wing— A bee it was—for once, I know, I heard a rustic call it so.” Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, “My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wild bee’s touch, How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be— The hapless heart that’s stung by thee?” Thomas Moore. (Odes of Anacreon.)