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XII. |
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XIX. |
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XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
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XXXIX. |
XL. | ODE XL. CUPID WOUNDED.
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XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
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LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
LXVII. |
LXVIII. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
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![]() | The works of Anacreon, Sappho, Bion, Moschus and Musæus | ![]() |
ODE XL. CUPID WOUNDED.
Once as Cupid, tir'd with Play,
On a Bed of Roses lay,
A rude Bee, that slept unseen,
The sweet-breathing Buds between,
Stung his Finger, cruel Chance!
With its little pointed Lance.
Strait he fills the Air with Cries,
Weeps, and sobs, and runs, and flies;
Till the God to Venus came,
Lovely, laughter-loving Dame:
Then he thus began to plain;
“Oh! undone—I die with Pain—
“Dear Mamma, a Serpent small,
“Which a Bee the Plough-men call,
“Imp'd with Wings, and arm'd with Dart,
“Oh!—has stung me to the Heart.”
On a Bed of Roses lay,
A rude Bee, that slept unseen,
The sweet-breathing Buds between,
98
With its little pointed Lance.
Strait he fills the Air with Cries,
Weeps, and sobs, and runs, and flies;
Till the God to Venus came,
Lovely, laughter-loving Dame:
Then he thus began to plain;
“Oh! undone—I die with Pain—
“Dear Mamma, a Serpent small,
“Which a Bee the Plough-men call,
“Imp'd with Wings, and arm'd with Dart,
“Oh!—has stung me to the Heart.”
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Venus thus reply'd, and smil'd;
‘Dry those Tears, for shame! my Child;
‘If a Bee can wound so deep,
‘Causing Cupid thus to weep,
‘Think, O think! what cruel Pains
‘He that's stung by thee sustains.’
‘Dry those Tears, for shame! my Child;
‘If a Bee can wound so deep,
‘Causing Cupid thus to weep,
‘Think, O think! what cruel Pains
‘He that's stung by thee sustains.’
![]() | The works of Anacreon, Sappho, Bion, Moschus and Musæus | ![]() |