As late I sought the spangled bowers,

To cull a wreath of matin flowers,

Where many an early rose was weeping,

I found the urchin Cupid sleeping,

I caught the boy, a goblet's tide

Was richly mantling by my side,

I caught him by his downy wing,

And whelmed him in the racy spring.

Then drank I down the poisoned bowl,

And love now nestles in my soul.

Oh, yes, my soul is Cupid's nest,

I feel him fluttering in my breast.

[1] This beautiful fiction, which the commentators have attributed to Julian, a royal poet, the Vatican MS. pronounces to be the genuine offspring of Anacreon.