His bandage slipped down into a cravat—

His wings subdued to epaulettes—his quiver

Shrunk to a scabbard, with his arrows at

His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever—

His bow converted into a cocked hat—

But still so like, that Psyche were more clever

Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid),

If she had not mistaken him for Cupid.