My soul’s Corinna, lightly played,
Young Cupid saw the graceful maid;
He saw, and in a moment flew,
And round her neck his arms he threw,
And said, with smiles of infant joy,
“Oh! kiss me, mother, kiss thy boy!”
Unconscious of a mother’s name,
The modest virgin blushed with shame;
And, angry Cupid scarce believing
That vision could be so deceiving,