At dead of night, when stars appear, <br />And strong Bootes turns the Bear, <br />When mortals sleep their cares away, <br />Fatigued with labours of the day, <br />Cupid was knocking at my gate; <br />Who's there, says I? who knocks so late, <br />Disturbs my dreams, and breaks my rest? <br />O fear not me, a harmless guest, <br />He said; but open, open pray; <br />A foolish child, I've lost my way, <br />And wander here this moonlight night, <br />All wet and cold, and wanting light. <br />With due regard his voice I heard, <br />Then rose, a ready lamp prepared, <br />And saw a naked boy below, <br />With wings, a quiver, and a bow: <br />In haste I ran, unlock'd my gate, <br />Secure and thoughtless of my fate; <br />I set the child an easy chair <br />Against the fire, and dried his hair; <br />Brought friendly cups of cheerful wine, <br />And warm'd his little hands with mine. <br />All this did I with kind intent; <br />Said, dearest Friend, this bow ye see, <br />This pretty bow, belongs to me: <br />Observe, I pray, if all be right, <br />I fear the rain has spoil'd it quite: <br />He drew it then, and straight I found <br />Within my breast a secret wound. <br />'Tis done, the rogue no longer staid, <br />But leapt away, and laughing said, <br />Kind host adieu, we now must part, <br />Safe is my bow, but sick thy heart.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cupid-turned-stroller-from-anacreon/
