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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,
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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 | |