The Wounded Cupid

Song

[Editor's note: a translation of an Anacreontea - Brian Habing]

CUPID as he lay among

Roses, by a Bee was stung.

Whereupon in anger flying

To his Mother, said thus crying;

Help! O help! your Boy's a dying.

And why, my pretty Lad, said she?

Then blubbering, replyed he,

A winged Snake has bitten me,

Which Country people call a Bee.

At which she smil'd; then with her hairs

And kisses drying up his tears:

Alas! said she, my Wag! if this

Such a pernicious torment is:

Come, tel me then, how great's the smart

Of those, thou woundest with thy Dart!

Robert Herrick