In another Servian lay, the lover sings that he would rather kiss his sweetheart than be the Sultan’s guest. In Spain the lover wishes he were the water-cooler so that he might kiss his darling’s lips when she is drinking:
Arcarrasa de tu casa,
Chiquiya, quisiera ser,
Para besarte los labios
Quando fueras á beber.
The Greeks say that the kiss is “the key to Paradise”; yea, it is Paradise itself, declares Wergeland:
Nay, bride, thine embrace more than heav’n I prize;
Oh, kiss me once more that to heav’n I rise.
W. F. H.
The kiss is a preservation against every ill. “No ill-luck can betide me when she bestows on me a kiss,” sings the old trouvère, Colin Muset:
Se de li ai un douz baisier
Ne me porroit nus mals venir.
It gives health and strength, adds Heine:
Yet could I kiss thee, O my soul,
Then straightway I should be made whole.
W. F. H.