Apollo told Cupid his business was not to play
with bow and arrow, but instead to light a torch
to guide unwary lovers. Cupid disagreed, saying

“Your arrows merely murder, but mine do
one of two things; either they inflame the flesh
with love’s fire, or they kill love with boredom.”

And with that, Cupid shot his arrow of love
and Apollo’s bones were pierced with
the fire of lightning. As for Daphne,

Apollo’s beloved, Cupid plunged an arrow
dull as lead into her breast. Then Apollo
walked about as in a tower of flames,

while Daphne fled as though she feared the very
shadow of love, much less its substance.
Apollo could only look on at her arms, milk-white

from shoulder to wrist, and wonder what he’d
done to deserve this penance. “I am no wild-haired
stable boy,” he called out, “but lord of Delphi,

where caves speak, there you hear my voice.”
But you can’t persuade a woman by chasing her
like a rabbit at a greyhound track, around and back.

Daphne cried out to her father “Cover with earth
this body I wear too well,” and she was turned into
a laurel tree, whose leaves crown the heads of victors.

Moral: A bored woman can outrun a horny man.