The Barginet of Antimachus

In pride of youth, in midst of May,
When birds with many a merry lay

Salute the sun's uprising;
I sat me down fast by a spring,
And while there merry chanters sing,

I fell upon surmising.
Amidst my doubt and mind's debate,
Of change of time, of world's estate,

I spied a boy attired
In silver plumes, yet naked quite.
Some pretty feathers fit for flight.

Wherewith he still aspired.
A bow he bare, to work man's wrack,
A little quiver at his back.

With many arrows fill'd;
And in his soft.and pretty hand.
He held a lively burning brand,

Wherewith he lovers kill'd.
Fast by his side, in rich array.
There sat a lovely lady gay,

His mother as I guess'd,
That set the lad upon her knee.
And trimm'd his bow, and taught him flee.

And mickle love profess'd.
Oft from her lap at sundry stoures.
He leapt and gather'd summer flowers,

Both violets and roses:
But see the chance that follow'd fast.
As he the pomp of prime doth waste

Before that he supposes,
A bee, that harbour'd hard thereby,
Did sting his hand and made him cry,

Oh, mother, I am wounded!
Fair Venus that beheld her son.
Cried out, Alas! I am undone:

And thereupon she swounded.
My little lad, the goddess said,
Who hath my Cupid so dismay'd?

He answer'd. Gentle mother,
The honey-worker in the hive
My grief and mischief doth contrive,

Alas! it is none other.
She kiss'd the lad: now mark the chance,
And straight she fell into a trance.

And crying, thus concluded:
Ah! wanton boy, like to the bee.
Thou with a kiss hast wounded me.

And hapless Love included.
A little bee doth thee affright.
But ah! my wounds are full of spright.

And cannot be recured.
The boy that kiss'd his mother's pain,
Gan smile, and kiss'd her whole again.

And made her hope assured.
He suck'd the wound, and suaged the sting,
And little Love ycured did sing.

Then let no lover sorrow:
To-day though grief attaint his heart
Let him with courage bide the smart,

Amends will come to-morrow.