LYDIA! girl of prettiest mien, | |
| And fairest skin, that e’er were seen: | |
| Lilies, cream, thy cheeks disclose; | |
| The ruddy and the milky rose; | |
| Smooth thy limbs as ivory shine, | 5 |
| Burnished from the Indic mine. | |
| Oh, sweet girl! those ringlets spread, | |
| Long and loose, from all thy head; | |
| Glistening like gold in yellow light | |
| O’er thy falling shoulders white. | 10 |
| Show, sweet girl! thy starry eyes, | |
| And black-bent brows that arching rise: | |
| Show, sweet girl! thy rose-bloom cheeks, | |
| Which Tyre’s vermillion scarlet streaks: | |
| Drop those pouting lips to mine, | 15 |
| Those ripe, those coral lips of thine. | |
| Give me, soft, a velvet kiss | |
| Dovelike glued in searching bliss: | |
| You suck my breath! oh Heaven! remove | |
| Your lips—I faint—my sweetest love! | 20 |
| Your kisses—hold! they pierce my heart: | |
| I feel thee in each vital part: | |
| Hold—thou wicked creature! why | |
| Suck my life’s blood, thus cruelly? | |
| Hide those breasts, that rise and fall, | 25 |
| Those twinned apples, round and small; | |
| Full with balmy juices flowing, | |
| Now just budding, heaving, growing; | |
| Breathing from their broadened zone | |
| Opening sweets of cinnamon. | 30 |
| Delicacies round thee rise: | |
| Hide those globes—they wound mine eyes | |
| With their white and dazzling glow, | |
| With their luxury of snow! | |
| Cruel! see you not I languish, | 35 |
| Thrilling with ecstatic anguish? | |
| Do you leave me; leave me lying, | |
| Almost fainting, almost dying? | |
| |
