When to my inmost core he glides,
And bathes it with his ruby tides,
A flow of joy, a lively heat,
Fires my brain, and wings my feet!
’Tis surely something sweet, I think,
Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink!
Sing, sing of love, let music’s breath
Softly beguile our rapturous death,
While, my young Venus, thou and I
To the voluptuous cadence die!