CUPID MISTAKEN
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.
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.
“I faint! I die!” the goddess cried:
“O cruel, could’st thou find none other
To wreak thy spleen on: Parricide!
Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.”
Poor Cupid, sobbing, scarce could speak;
“Indeed, mama, I did not know ye:
Alas! how easy my mistake?
I took you for your likeness, Chloe.”
Matthew Prior.