Cupid Stung

• Cupid once upon a bed
• Of roses laid his weary head;
• Luckless urchin, not to see
• Within the leaves a slumbering bee.
• The bee awak'd—with anger wild
• The bee awak'd, and stung the child.
• Loud and piteous are his cries;
• To Venus quick he runs, he flies;
• “Oh, 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!”