[1] 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! 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!"