’Tis not a kiss you give, my love! ’Tis richest nectar from above! A fragrant shower of balmy dews, Which thy sweet lips alone diffuse! ’Tis every aromatic breeze, That wafts from Afric’s spicy trees; ’Tis honey from the osier hive, Which chymist bees with care derive From all the newly-opened flowers That bloom in Cecrops’ roseate bowers, Or from the breathing sweets that grow On famed Hymettus’ thymy brow: But if such kisses you bestow, If from your lips such raptures flow, Thus blest, supremely blest by thee, Ere long I must immortal be; Must taste on earth those joys that wait The banquets of celestial state. Then cease thy bounty, dearest fair! Such precious gifts then spare! oh, spare! Or, if I must immortal prove, Be thou immortal too, my love! For, should the heavenly powers request My presence at the ambrosial feast, Nay, should they Jove himself dethrone, And yield to me his radiant crown, I’d scorn it all, nor would I deign O’er golden realms of bliss to reign, Jove’s radiant crown I’d scorn to wear, Unless thou might’st such honors share; Unless thou too, with equal sway, Might’st rule with me the realms of day. KISS V. While tenderly around me cast Your arms, Neæra, hold me fast, And hanging o’er, to view confest Your neck and gently-heaving breast, Down on my shoulders soft decline Your beauties more than half divine, With wandering looks that o’er me rove, And fire the melting soul with love: While you, Neæra, fondly join Your little pouting lips with mine, And frolic bite your amorous swain, Complaining soft if bit again, And sweetly murmuring pour along The trembling accents of your tongue, Your tongue, now here, now there that strays, 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-whispered sigh, 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 amorous play, In kisses suck my breath away; My breath with wasting warmth replete, Parched by my breast’s contagious heat; Till, breathing soft, you pour again Returning life through every vein; 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 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! If any can yet greater be, Yes, my Neæra! yes, ’tis thee!” KISS VI.