The Wounded Cupid. Song
BY ANACREON
TRANSLATED BY ROBERT HERRICK

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, replied 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 tell me then, how great’s the smart
Of those, thou woundest with thy Dart!