The Tardy Cherub

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Cupid snoozed—his alarm betrayed, Wings askew, his bow mislaid. Love showed up a moment late, Blushing, breathless, tempting fate. Turns out hearts still fell just fine— Even tardy arrows hit on time.

Cyclops Blacksmith

 “Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay,

Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare, 

Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,

In hollow caves the fires of Ætna glow. 

The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; 

Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, 

Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,

And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar.”


—Vergil (70 B.C.–19 B.C.).  Æneid.




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