Robert Cooke
 (1768 - 1814)

In the rose's fragrant shade
 (A.T.T.B.)
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Pub. 1800.
Lyrics: Anacreon (trans. Edward Burnaby Greene)

In the rose's fragrant shade,
Sipping sweets, a bee was laid;
Little Love, who wanton'd round,
On his finger felt a wound.
Scar'd and pain'd, he sobs and sighs,
And to heav'nly Venus flies:

"I faint, I die, Oh! succour lend,
Or thy Cupid's at an end,
Pierc'd by a serpent, hapless me,
Which the ploughman call a bee,
Small he was, and bearing wings;
To the very heart he stings".

"This the mischief you deplore",
Venus cried, "and how much more
Must the wretched bosoms prove,
Tortur'd with the stings of love".