He smiling said, “With this, with this
I’ll scent my Julia’s burning kiss!”
Nay, more: he stole to Venus’ bed,
Ere yet the sanguine flush had fled
Which Love’s divinest, dearest flame
Had kindled through her panting frame.
Her soul still dwelt on memory’s themes,
Still floated in voluptuous dreams;
And every joy she felt before
In slumber now was acting o’er.