PRONE, on my couch I calmly slept Against my wont. A little child Awoke me as he gently crept And beat my door. A tempest wild Was raging-dark and cold the night. "Have pity on my naked plight," He begged, "and ope thy door".--"Thy name?" I asked admitting him.--"The same "Anon I'll tell, but first must dry "My weary limbs, then let me try "My mois'ened bow."--Despite my fear The hearth I lit, then drew me near My guest, and chafed his fingers cold. "Why fear?" I thought. "Let me be bold "No Polyphemus he; what harm "In such a child?--Then I'll be calm!" The playful boy drew out a dart, Shook his fair locks, and to my heart His shaft he launch'd.--"Love is my name," He thankless cried, "I hither came "To tame thee. In thine ardent pain "Of Cupid think and young Climene."-- "Ah! now I know thee, little scamp, "Ungrateful, cruel boy! Decamp!" Cupid a saucy caper cut, Skipped through the door, and as it shut, "My bow," he taunting cried, "is sound, "Thy heart, poor comrade, feels the wound."