CUPID Mistaken.
I
As after Noon, one Summer's Day,
Venus stood bathing in a River;
Cupid a-shooting went that Way,
New strung his Bow, new fill'd his Quiver.
II
With Skill He chose his sharpest Dart:
With all his Might his Bow He drew:
Swift to His beauteous Parent's Heart
The too well-guided Arrow flew.
III
I faint! I die! the Goddess cry'd:
O cruel, could'st Thou find none other,
To wreck thy Spleen on? Parricide!
Like Nero, Thou hast slain thy Mother.
IV
Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
Indeed, Mamma, I did not know Ye:
Alas! how easie my Mistake?
I took You for your Likeness, Cloe.