Let these vain scruples cease,
While on thy rosy lips I now
Imprint the kiss of peace.
"O! let the ardent sighs you hear,
The vows of love I utter,
Steal gently on thy willing ear,
As smooth as melted butter.
"Always spare diet must be wrong—
'Tis weary, stale, and flat;
And having lived on lean so long,