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.