WHILE tenderly around me cast | |
| Your arms, Neaera, hold me fast; | |
| And hanging o’er, to view confest, | |
| Your neck, and gently-heaving breast; | |
| Down on my shoulders soft decline | 5 |
| Your beauties more than half divine; | |
| With wand’ring looks that o’er me rove, | |
| And fire the melting soul with love: | |
| |
| While you, Neaera, fondly join | |
| Your little pouting lips with mine; | 10 |
| And frolic bite your am’rous swain, | |
| Complaining soft if bit again; | |
| And sweetly-murm’ring pour along | |
| The trembling accents of your tongue, | |
| Your tongue, now here now there that strays, | 15 |
| Now here now there delighted plays; | |
| That now my humid kisses sips, | |
| Now wanton darts between my lips; | |
| And on my bosom raptured lie, | |
| Venting the gently-whisper’d sigh; | 20 |
| A sigh that kindles warm desires, | |
| And kindly fans life’s drooping fires; | |
| Soft as the zephyr’s breezy wing, | |
| And balmy as the breath of spring: | |
| |
| While you, sweet nymph! with am’rous play, | 25 |
| In kisses suck my breath away; | |
| My breath with wasting warmth replete, | |
| Parch’d by my breast’s contagious heat; | |
| Till, breathing soft, you pour again | |
| Returning life through every vein; | 30 |
| Thus soothe to rest my passion’s rage, | |
| Love’s burning fever thus assuage: | |
| Sweet nymph! whose breath can best allay | |
| Those fires that on my bosom prey, | |
| Breath welcome as the cooling gale, | 35 |
| That blows when scorching heats prevail! | |
| Then, more than blest, I fondly swear, | |
| “No power can with Love’s power compare! | |
| None in the starry court of Jove | |
| Is greater than the god of Love! | 40 |
| If any can yet greater be, | |
| Yes, my Neaera! ye, ’tis thee!” | |
| |
