[Illustration: 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 filled 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, couldst thou find none other To wreak thy spleen on? Parricide! Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.” Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak: “Indeed, mamma, I did not know ye; Alas! how easy my mistake; I took you for your likeness, Cloe.” MATTHEW PRIOR. [Illustration: CUPID ONCE UPON A BED] 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! “O mother! I am wounded through— I die with pain—in sooth I do! Stung by some little angry thing, Some serpent on a tiny wing— A bee it was—for once, I know, I heard a rustic call it so.” Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, “My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wild bee’s touch, How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be— The hapless heart that’s stung by thee?” THOMAS MOORE. (Odes of Anacreon.) CUPID’S BIRTH At Cupid’s birth, Joy left the bounds of space, And, heeding not the stars, flew fast to earth, To hold the hearts of men in warm embrace, At Cupid’s birth. Then Life, with beaming eyes and quickened pace, And new-found god-like strength, first knew her worth; While Fate began the future to retrace. But Death stood gently by with quiet grace, Aloof from all the tumult and mad mirth, A sweet, sad smile lit up his steadfast face At Cupid’s birth. R. W. BUNNY. CUPID AT COURT Young Cupid strung his bow one day, And sallied out for sport; As country hearts were easy prey, Odd Darts! he went to court. Of all that wore the puff and patch, Belinda led the fair: With falbala, and fan to match, I trow she made him stare! “Oho!” he cried, and quickly drew His bow upon the sly;— But though he pierced her bosom through, She never breathed a sigh! This was a turn, beyond a doubt, That filled him with amaze, And so he sought his mother out, With tear-bewildered gaze. “You silly boy,” Dame Venus said, “Why did you waste your art? Go clip your curls and hide your head,— Belinda _has_ no heart!” SAMUEL MINTURN PECK. [Illustration: CUPID]