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?
