“Cupid once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head;
Luckless urchin, not to see
Within the leaves a slumbering bee.
The bee awaked—with anger wild
The bee awaked, and stung the child
Loud and piteous are his cries;
To Venus quick he runs, he flies;
‘Oh, mother—I am wounded through—
I die with pain—in sooth I do!