BRIGHT as Venus’ golden star, | |
| Fair as Dian’s silver car, | |
| Nymph, with every charm replete, | |
| Give me hundred kisses sweet; | |
| Then as many kisses more | 5 |
| O’er my lips profusely pour, | |
| As th’ insatiate bard could want, | |
| Or his bounteous Lesbia grant; | |
| As the vagrant Loves that stray | |
| On thy lips’ nectareous way; | 10 |
| As the dimpling Graces spread | |
| On thy cheeks’ carnation’d bed; | |
| As the deaths thy lovers die; | |
| As the conquests of thine eye, | |
| Or the cares, and fond delights, | 15 |
| Which its changeful beam incites; | |
| As the hopes and fears we prove, | |
| Or th’ impassion’d sighs, in love; | |
| As the shafts by Cupid sped, | |
| Shafts by which my heart has bled; | 20 |
| As the countless stores that still | |
| All his golden quiver fill. | |
| Whisper’d plaints, and wanton wiles; | |
| Speeches soft, and soothing smiles; | |
| Teeth-imprinted, tell-tale blisses, | 25 |
| Intermix with all thy kisses. | |
| So, when Zephyr’s breezy wing | |
| Wafts the balmy breath of spring, | |
| Turtles thus their loves repeat, | |
| Fondly billing, murm’ring sweet, | 30 |
| While their trembling pinions tell | |
| What delights their bosoms swell. | |
| |
| Kiss me, press me, till you feel | |
| All your raptured senses reel; | |
| Till your eyes, half-closed and dim, | 35 |
| In a dizzy transport swim, | |
| And you murmur faintly, “Grasp me, | |
| Swooning, in your arms oh, clasp me.” | |
| In my fond sustaining arms | |
| I will hold your drooping charms; | 40 |
| While the long, life-teeming kiss | |
| Shall recall your soul to bliss; | |
| And, as thus the vital store | |
| From my humid lips I pour, | |
| Till, exhausted with the play, | 45 |
| All my spirit wastes away; | |
| Sudden, in my turn, I’ll cry, | |
| “Oh! support me, for I die.” | |
| To your fost’ring breast you’ll hold me, | |
| In your warm embrace enfold me; | 50 |
| While your breath, in nectar’d gales, | |
| O’er my sinking soul prevails; | |
| While your kisses sweet impart | |
| Life and rapture to my heart. | |
| Thus, when youth is in its prime, | 55 |
| Let’s enjoy the golden time; | |
| For, when smiling youth is past, | |
| Age these tender joys shall blast: | |
| Sickness, which our bloom impairs; | |
| Slow-consuming, painful cares; | 60 |
| Death, with dire remorseless rage; | |
| All attend the steps of age. | |
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