Fragment (Ah! once as Cupid did repose)

AH! once as Cupid did reposeWarm in the bosom of a rose,Then that queenly flower was paleAs the fair lily of the vale.—Alas! the god with careless eyeSees not the thorns that round her lie

Won by Rosa's flattering smileHe dreams not of her subtle guile.—Oh! trusting child, her thorns soon proveBut ill repaid is thy warm love;The crimson drops thy bed they stain'd,And red since then the rose remain'd.