Ah, no!—but turn not thus aside Those tempting lips of scarlet glow; Nor yet avert, with angry pride, Those eyes, from whence such raptures flow! Forgive the past, sweet-natured maid; My kisses, love, are all thy own: Then let my lips to thine be laid, To thine, more soft than softest down. KISS XV. The Idalian boy, to pierce Neæra’s heart, Had bent his bow, had chose the fatal dart; But when the child, in wonder lost, surveyed That brow, o’er which your sunny tresses played, Those cheeks, that blushed the rose’s warmest dye, That streamy languish of your lucid eye, That bosom, too, with matchless beauty bright (Scarce Cypria’s own could boast so pure a white), Though mischief urged him first to wound my fair, Yet partial fondness urged him now to spare. But, doubting still, he lingered to decide; At length, resolved, he flung the shaft aside, Then sudden rushed impetuous to thy arms, And hung voluptuous on thy heavenly charms: There as the boy in wanton folds was laid, His lips o’er thine in varied kisses played; With every kiss he tried a thousand wiles, A thousand gestures, and a thousand smiles; Your inmost breast with Cyprian odors filled, And all the myrtle’s luscious scent instilled: Lastly, he swore by every power above, By Venus’ self, the potent Queen of Love, That you, blest nymph, forever should remain Exempt from amorous care, from amorous pain. What wonder, then, such balmy sweets should flow In every grateful kiss your lips bestow? What wonder, then, obdurate maid, you prove Averse to all the tenderness of love? KISS XVI. 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 O’er my lips profusely pour, As the insatiate bard could want, Or his bounteous Lesbia grant; As the vagrant Loves that stray On thy lips’ nectareous way; As the dimpling Graces spread On thy cheeks’ carnationed bed; As the deaths thy lovers die; As the conquests of thine eye, Or the cares and fond delights Which its changeful beam incites; As the hopes and fears we prove, Or the impassioned sighs, in love; As the shafts by Cupid sped, Shafts by which my heart has bled; As the countless stores that still All his golden quiver fill. Whispered plaints, and wanton wiles, Speeches soft, and soothing smiles, Teeth-imprinted, tell-tale blisses, Intermix with all thy kisses. So, when zephyr’s breezy wing Wafts the balmy breath of spring, Turtles thus their loves repeat, Fondly billing, murmuring sweet, While their trembling pinions tell What delights their bosoms swell.